


Surrender the Mind

by creepy_crawly



Series: Surrender (Bleach) [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Emotional Constipation, F/M, Illnesses, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Senbonzakura is HBIC, Series, Threesome - F/M/M, boys are stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-04
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after <span class="u">Surrender the Body</span>, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Starting Again (Chapter 1 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

 

“I heard from Ishida this week,” Orihime said, looking up from her dinner as she spoke. “He called me, again.”

Ichigo, too, looked up. “You heard from him? How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing well, as usual,” she answered, tucking one long strand of hair behind her ear. She fiddled with her chopsticks for a moment. “They’re talking about sending him to the United States again.”

“What’s in America?” Rukia asked. She hadn’t been in the human world in a while, being too busy with the problems of Soul Society to be spared. Still, things had settled down enough to allow her to return to her normal patrol. Upon finding out that she was back in Karakura, Orihime had insisted on inviting her to join their weekly get-together.

“Some medical program,” Ichigo told her, grimacing. “At least once a month, they ask Ishida to go. And at least once a month, he turns them down.”

“He says he wants to complete his medical degree in Tokyo,” Orihime continued. “And he’s very close to doing that, I think.”

“Which is early,” Ichigo said, swallowing the mouthful of food he had. “But Ishida’s dad pulled some strings or something.”

Orihime shot him a look, delicately finishing the piece of beef she had been nibbling on. “We’re not quite sure,” she explained, “because, for whatever reason, Ishida’s not speaking to Ichigo again.”

“Another promise to his father?” Rukia asked Ichigo.

The redhead shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, that didn’t stop him last time, but… It certainly sounds like it. There for a while, just before graduation, there were almost no Hollows here—Ishida took care of all of them in seconds. Now, whoever Soul Society’s got in Tokyo probably has a very cushy job.”

Disturbed, Rukia made a mental note to examine the reports from Tokyo. There were five Shinigami stationed in the city. If they really were having an easier time… She’d seen just how efficiently the young Quincy could handle Hollows before. If he had, as Orihime and Ichigo were suggesting, been training with his father, then he would be even better. There was no point in wasting Shinigami on an already protected area, anyway. If all that was needed was that soul burials be performed, then surely the patrols on Tokyo could be reduced, and their Shinigami redirected, which would, in turn, reduce the strain on the other Shinigami…

“Stop thinking, dumbass,” Ichigo snorted, elbowing her upper arm lightly. “Surely hanging out with us is more fun than thinking about work.”

Rukia laughed. “Okay, I’ll give you that,” she conceded. “So. Aside from the Americans wanting Ishida, what’s been going on in your lives?”

Orihime brightened almost immediately. “Well,” she said proudly, “I’m at the top of my class in school! I’m doing really well.”

“That’s really good!” Rukia said, smiling at her. “You’re studying to be a teacher, right?”

Orihime nodded. “I think I’m going to teach a primary grade. Maybe kindergarten. Next semester, I have to student teach, so I’m deciding which teacher I want to student teach with. I’m not quite sure what grade level I want to work with, though, so I need to hurry up and decide that.”

Rukia smiled at the redheaded girl. Orihime Inoue would make a great kindergarten teacher, she decided. The girl was bubbly and bright, irrepressible even after everything that had happened in the Hueco Mundo and during the Winter War. Immediately after the war, Orihime had been quiet and withdrawn, which, while discomfiting, was judged to be a side-effect of the war. Rukia had been sad to leave the human world with the human girl still quiet and lacking her usual effervescence.

Clearly, though, she had healed. Seeing her now was like seeing her before the war, before she was held prisoner in the Hueco Mundo. Perhaps Matsumoto’s presence had had something to do with that. The two women got on incredibly well, each seeing something of themselves in the other. Orihime looked up to Matsumoto, Rukia knew, and Matsumoto seemed to see the human girl as something of a long lost sister. It was a comfort to both of them.

“I think you’d make a great kindergarten teacher,” Rukia said, her smile growing. “Think about it…you’d get to play with them, not be bossy.”

“I know! And they’re so cute…” Orihime sighed, her eyes twinkling. “Anyway, that’s what’s going on for me.”

Ichigo shook his head, still smiling at Orihime’s obvious joy. “I’m not doing much,” he admitted. “Writing a lot, but, then again, I am in college for a creative writing degree, so I suppose that that’s only to be expected, right?”

“How’s your manuscript going?” Rukia asked, slurping her drink as she watched him.

“Slowly,” Ichigo replied sourly. “Very slowly. The publisher is being patient, though, so I suppose I should follow their lead and give myself the benefit of the doubt.”

“Some days,” Orihime volunteered, “he goes out Hollow hunting just to avoid working on his book!”

Rukia laughed, watching the way the redheaded boy’s face lit up, first with shame and then with anger. Orihime ducked the playful swat he aimed in her direction, still laughing.

\----

“My feet are killing me,” Tatsuki whined, leaning against Chad’s strong body as she adjusted the strap on her high heels. “Remind me again why we do these damn things?”

“Because it brings in an absolute ton of money,” Chad replied calmly, placing a large, calming hand on her shoulder. “The parents like to know who their children are learning from. And the gym pays us overtime to be here.”

“I’d rather skip the heels and the overtime,” Tatsuki grumped. “At least you just have to wear a suit. I have to get all dressed up. Dress, heels, make-up—the whole nine yards!”

“Have you ever tried to find a suit in my size?” Chad asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “And I hate ties. And we’re missing dinner with Orihime and Ichigo and Rukia.”

“Told you these banquets sucked,” Tatsuki muttered, under her breath as she pushed open the door to the banquet hall.

It was crowded with people, most of who were seated at their tables already. Some still stood around, talking to one another, gossiping about this and that. Some of the children beamed and waved at Chad and Tatsuki as they entered the room; some of their older students smiled and gave tiny waves of acknowledgement.

In order to pay for college, both Tatsuki and Chad had begun to work as instructors at the dojo she had taken lessons in her whole life. Tatsuki taught the more traditional martial arts; Chad had started a class on street fighting. The owners of the dojo had offered him an incredibly large paycheck after a local news station had done a segment on how his program was both keeping kids off the streets and keeping them safer, but he had turned them down. They were both growing quite old, after all, and it was just a job for him to pay for higher education. Besides, he liked the children.

Tatsuki’s obvious love of her sport and her protectiveness of all of the children she taught had made her incredibly popular with her students _and_ their parents. She carried one of the heaviest class loads, and every penny of it went to paying for her to go to school. She was determined to get a degree in sports education so that she could come back and keep teaching at the dojo. At the same time, the head coach of the Japanese Olympic team had begun to come to her matches and court her, trying to get her to agree to go the next Olympic games.

“Come on,” Chad whispered in her ear, leading her to the instructors’ table with a firm hand on her elbow. “Faster we get this started, the faster this gets done.”

Tatsuki shot him a dirty look but allowed the gentle giant to steer her over towards all of their colleagues.

\----

“Still not sleeping well?” Unohana asked gently, looking at the shinigami seated across from her over the rim of her teacup. “Have you been doing everything we talked about last time, Byakuya-kun?”

“I have, Unohana-san,” he answered. The exhaustion was plain in his voice; it wore on him like a heavy cold, blunting the usually elegant tone. Dark circles ringed his eyes, though he only allowed the Fourth Division taichou to see them. In front of everyone else, he made a point of hiding them. No sense in letting others see his shame. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine and other stimulants, I’ve been taking long walks, and I’ve even begun to release bankai before going to bed every night. Nothing works.”

“And so you get out of bed, come into your office, and work on your paperwork,” Unohana finished shrewdly, still watching the calm, quiet noble. “Very well. I didn’t want to put you on any more medication than you already are on, but…well, it certainly can’t be helped. With the reports of ill and dead in Rukongai rising, and with the lower-rank shinigami starting to fall ill, I don’t want to risk you being at anything but your best.”

“There are still more ill?” Byakuya asked. There was a note of concern in his voice.

Unohana nodded. “The counts from Rukongai are…simply horrible. And as bad as the disease is when it strikes those without soul powers… I’ve asked Yamamoto-soutaichou to quarantine the Shinigami Academy. No one comes in; no one comes out. Too many of those students live in Rukongai. When this disease hits those who have reiatsu…it’s horrible. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I don’t sleep in my family compound,” Byakuya murmured, his eyes dancing ever-so-slightly.

“Oh, you,” Unohana said, laughing despite herself. “I suppose one could look at it that way… Alright. Here’s the medication. Take it every night at the same time, about thirty minutes before you want to be asleep. It’ll calm you down slowly. It might take you a while to wake up from it, though, so be sure to let Abarai-fukutaichou know that _he alone_ will be on call at night. He’s healthy, before you argue, and you’re getting weaker the less you sleep. Haven’t you noticed how Senbonzakura’s changed? She’s exhausted, Byakuya-kun. She needs sleep as badly as you do. So you will sleep, and you will let your vice-captain handle anything that comes up. Do you understand me?”

“As clear as ever, Unohana-san,” Byakuya answered politely, though he treated her to a rare, if small, smile.

“Good,” she said sharply, placing the small earthenware jar of pills in his hand. Then she smiled at him. “Please…enjoy your tea…”

\----

“Ryuuken…” Urahara said slowly, turning to face the man now entering his shop. “What can I do for you this splendid evening?”

Ryuuken scowled at the blond. “You can start by telling me why in _hell_ you gave Kurosaki my address!”

“I would assume your son gave Ichigo your address, Ryuuken,” Urahara said calmly, smiling at him brightly.

Ryuuken’s scowl darkened. “It’s _not_ Ichigo I’m talking about, and you know it. You gave my address to Kurosaki Isshin, Kisuke!”

The blond closed his fan with a snap. After a moment’s worth of silence, he looked across at the other man. “Don’t you think it’s about time, Ryuuken?” he asked quietly. “It’s been what, twenty years now? Twenty one?”

“Twenty two and a half,” Ryuuken ground out, “as you well know.”

Urahara nodded. “I do know. It’s kind of hard _not_ to miss a man like you in my bed.”

At that, Ryuuken snorted. “Like your bed’s been empty since we…since…”

“Since Isshin started dating Misaki-chan, and you felt like you had to one-up him,” Urahara supplied gently. “You’re not blameless, Ryuuken.”

“I didn’t pretend,” Ryuuken spat.

“I never said you did,” the blond replied, calm. He stepped around the counter, coming closer to the pissed Quincy. His eyes were serious as he focused on the man standing in his shop, a man he hadn’t spent too much time with in over twenty two years. “But you still chose to break this off.”

“My…my mistake,” Ryuuken said hoarsely. “My mistake.” Suddenly, he looked up at Urahara. His eyes were suspiciously bright, and the tension around his lips had changed. He was still tense, but for a different reason than before. “And it’s one…one that I’ve…”

“Regretted?” Urahara asked. He paused, inches away from Ryuuken.

The silver-haired man nodded. Reaching forward, he slid his hand into Urahara’s blond hair, knocking the hat from his head and yanking the blond man closer. “I’ve regretted it every single day, Kisuke,” he mumbled.

But the shopkeeper stilled him with a hand, preventing the other man from kissing him. “Think about this, Ryuuken,” he said quietly. “Think about Uryuu. Think about your family. You love them.”

“I love Uryuu,” Ryuuken agreed. “And my wife and I…we were compatible. But it…it’s always been you…always…” Blinking rapidly, he removed his hand from the blond’s hair, and nervously slid it down his chest. “I…I’m sorry, Kisuke. But I...I…”

“I understand, Ryuuken,” Urahara murmured. Gently, he drew the doctor against his chest, tucking his head against his shoulder. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Ryuuken asked. His voice was shaky as he spoke, and even his hand shook against Urahara’s chest. He closed his eyes and let the blond hold him, his pride and resolve crumbling.

“I do,” Urahara whispered into his hair. “I understand, Ryuuken, more than you know.” Closing his own eyes, he kissed the top of his head. “I understand.”

 

  



	2. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Unohana’s Dilemma (Chapter 2 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? PG-13. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

 

 

“I just don’t know why they’re dying,” Unohana sighed, running a hand over her face. “Okay, well, on an intellectual level, I know why. Their bodies are shutting down—lungs, hearts, kidneys, livers, stomachs…everything’s just…collapsing. Falling apart.”

Isane frowned, wiping a counter down with a disinfectant-soaked rag. “But we’re closer to isolating how the infection travels, aren’t we?” she asked, turning to look at her taichou.

“Somewhat,” Unohana agreed tiredly. “We’ve isolated that it’s not traveling by way of bodily-fluid contact. And it’s not travelling by reiatsu-contact. No matter how much we handle the bodily fluids of the Shinigami who have fallen ill, we have yet to fall ill. And the people living in Rukongai who fell ill never came in contact with a Shinigami who _wasn’t_ a member of the Fourth Division.”

“But none of the Fourth Division have fallen ill,” Isane murmured. “Not even Hanatarou. And he’s been all but living in that building we quarantined in Rukongai.”

“I know,” Unohana sighed. “I’m not quite sure _how_ the illness got into Seireitei in the first place. Perhaps…traveling by air?”

“Perhaps,” Isane agreed. “But then, why aren’t we ill? Why isn’t Hanatarou?”

“I just don’t know!” Unohana cried, throwing her hands up. “And the longer I don’t know, the longer this thing has to spread among our Shinigami! And the longer they’re ill, the more likely they are to die of this thing…because _I_ couldn’t stop it!”

“It’s not your fault, Unohana-taichou,” Isane said gently, placing a hand on Unohana’s sleeve. “None of us have figured this out. It’s got _all_ of us stumped. _None_ of us have been able to figure it out.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” the dark-haired woman said slowly, flopping loosely onto a stool. Propping her elbows on the counter, she cradled her head in her hands. “What do I do?”

“Unohana-taichou,” Isane said calmly, settling beside her at the desk. “What we’ll do is this. We’ll start by getting a full night’s sleep. Then, we’ll turn to any other divisions that have unseated officers they can spare. We can have them do the grunt work—they can wipe up, mop floors, sweep, change linens. Anything we use our own unseated officers for, they can do. Then, our own unseated officers can help us. They can help with the more medically-minded things that we really just need some spare hands for.”

“That…is a wise idea,” Unohana said, thinking about it. “We have plenty of people who we could be using to help us with the ill, who are currently just doing grunt work. We have to keep the division clean…”

“And right now, all the other divisions have the people to spare,” her vice-captain said proudly.

“For now,” Unohana added darkly. Sighing, she stood up. “I’ll send a memo around to the other captains. Thank you for your help, Isane.”

“No problem, taichou,” the young woman said, smiling at her even as she got to her own feet.

\----

“Still looking for spare shinigami?” Byakuya asked, not looking up as Unohana entered the Sixth Division’s administrative offices. “Haven’t got very many sitting around here. Go check with someone else.”

“Surely you’ve got _someone_ you can spare, Byakuya,” Unohana pleaded, sliding the door closed behind her. “You have many unseated, don’t you?”

“Many,” he agreed, finally laying aside the brush pen he had been using to complete the division’s paperwork en she had entered. “But, as of this morning, several were in the Fourth Division, having reported ill. With the new disease or not, I don’t know. There are a few still in your offices for injuries from a previous…incident. And then, of course, with so many of _their own_ fallen ill, every other division in Seireitei is asking for unseated officers and lower seats to help cover the holes in their own shifts!”

Unohana winced. “I’d heard that the situation was getting bad,” she murmured. “Is it already _that_ bad?”

“It is,” Byakuya said heavily, nodding. “Everyone’s finding holes in their rosters. I myself am starting to find shifts that I need to call on someone else to cover. I refuse to send shinigami out who have served more than twenty hours already. It’s not safe. Not for the shinigami, and not for the people they are supposed to be protecting.”

Unohana sighed, leaning against one of the filing cabinets that stood against a wall. “Where are we going to find people, Byakuya?” she asked, reaching up and massaging her temples with one hand.

Byakuya’s lips thinned as he thought, a distant look in his eyes. “I could…potentially…free up an unseated or two,” he murmured. “But…we would need to get the ryoka.”

Unohana raised an elegant eyebrow in his direction. “Oh?”

“I have an idea, Unohana,” Byakuya murmured, looking up at her. “Think about it. The ryoka are strong enough to handle Hollows on their own. They have handled Arrancar and Espada on the merits of their own strengths. They can handle our patrols.”

“And having them covering the gaps in patrols for different divisions would mean that there would be an unseated shinigami or two that we could have working grunt work in fourth Division’s offices,” Unohana said, continuing the thought. “I…that might actually work.”

Byakuya smiled ever-so-slightly. “Of course it will,” he said smoothly. “I suggested it.”

Unohana smirked at him. “So modest, taichou,” she teased. “I suppose I should probably go talk to Yamamoto-soutaichou about this, then.” Standing up, she turned and began to slide the door open once more.

“Unohana,” Byakuya called after her. “Wait. Be sure to invite the Quincy, too. He’s…he’s strong with spirit particles. He’ll be…he’ll be almost undefeatable, here.”

Unohana smiled gently. “The Ishida child? Uryuu, I believe?”

Byakuya nodded. “He’s powerful, Unohana. Particularly…particularly now that he’s trained with his father once more.”

Seeing the look on his face—and suspecting that Byakuya himself wasn’t quite aware of how much his face was showing her—Unohana said nothing, but nodded her agreement. “I will ask Yamamoto-soutaichou,” she repeated. “I believe that he will give this idea clearance. He is as worried about the state of Seireitei as the rest of us.”

Byakya said nothing. “Suggest it to Yamamoto-soutaichou,” he said blandly. “In the meantime, I have paperwork that I must attend to.”

Unohana watched him for a moment, silent. Byakuya ignored her, instead gathering up the papers that decorated his desk and beginning to sign them, reading quickly. After a long moment, the dark-haired shinigami turned on her heel and left, sliding the door closed behind her with nary a sound.

As she paced down the halls of the Sixth Division, Unohana thought about Byakuya’s proposal. Willingly bringing the ryoka into Seireitei? That was an idea, she had to admit. It would take a lot of negotiating—the circumstances under which that group had last been in Soul Society hadn’t been good ones. Still, the situation was getting to be quite desperate in Soul Society, and with _all_ of the Divisions struggling to keep their duty rosters full… Well. Yamamoto-soutaichou had never been called an unreasonable man (in the face of true and utter disaster, anyway). Surely Unohana could talk him into permitting the ryoka back into Soul Society and into Seireitei proper.

Which only left Unohana’s concerns about Byakuya. She knew that the younger shinigami had been involved in _something_ down on earth two years prior, but despite all her discreet prying, she had never found out _what_ , exactly. She valued Byakuya’s friendship too much to dig deeper than she had, and she had contented herself with the knowledge that, if he wanted her to know, she would one day learn the truth.

And it seemed that she now had. She hadn’t missed the look on Byakuya’s face and the tone of his voice when he had been talking about the Quincy. Too, there had been a distinct thrill of energy in the room that couldn’t be mistaken. Senbonzakura had been remembering something which pleased her.

It all added up to one thing in Unohana’s mind.

Kuchiki Byakuya was in love with Ishida Uryuu.

\----

“You’re getting better,” Ryuuken murmured, watching his son catch his breath. His lips quirked in what might almost be considered a smirk. “You almost had me, there for a minute.”

Hunched over, his hands on his knees, sweaty hair glued to his face, Uryuu looked up at his father over the edge of his glasses. “Had you…for more than…a fucking minute…” he panted. “You had to…gah…to cheat!”

“It’s not cheating,” Ryuuken said primly.

“Right,” Uryuu agreed breathily, straightening up slowly. He used one hand to shove his hair back out of his face. “It’s fighting dirty.”

“Now you’re learning,” his father said approvingly. “How’re your classes going?”

“The Americans still want me,” Uryuu replied. He accepted the water bottle his father handed him. “They sent me another letter, just yesterday.”

“It’s a good program,” Ryuuken told him, offering a towel. “You don’t want to keep them dangling too long. They will eventually withdraw their offer, you know.”

“I know,” Uryuu answered sourly. “You never let me forget.” Taking a large swallow of water, he shot a dirty look at his father. “One would almost think you want me out of the country.”

Ryuuken’s lips quirked again, and he settled in a folding chair that now stood in the corner of their training room. “It would make training like this a lot harder, I suppose.”

“Oh, I suppose it would,” Uryuu snorted. “It’s hard enough, coming from Tokyo on a tri-weekly basis.” He took another long swallow of water. “Honestly. Don’t you think I’m getting enough practice thinning out the Hollow population of a major metropolitan city?”

“Can those Hollows train you in Quincy techniques?” the silver-haired man demanded.

Rolling his eyes, Uryuu snorted. “Hardly. And if they can, I’m in trouble of another sort.”

“Which is why you need to keep coming by,” Ryuuken said sharply. “You might actually make something of your life.”

“High praise, indeed, coming from you,” Uryuu said acidly. “What’s with the mood change? Just last month you were saying it was a miracle I wasn’t dead yet.”

Ryuuken refused to be cowed. “Based on the way you were fighting last month, it was a miracle that you were still alive. Still. You could be a lot worse off.”

It was Uryuu’s turn to quirk his lips. “I suppose that’s the closest to praise I’m getting off of you, at least until you’re on your death bed,” he sighed. “Well. I need to get back to school. May I use your shower?”

“Please. I rather think they wouldn’t let you on the train, smelling like that,” his father shot back.

Rolling his eyes, Uryuu made his way over to the bathroom that had been built into the training room, towel around his neck and water bottle in hand. His father kept a change of clothes available for him, generally scrubs. This training was a ritual of theirs, now, having spent two years fighting one another. Over the years, the hatred between the two Ishida had changed, had become something more friendly. Their relationship still could not be described as normal, but it was less dysfunctional.

Sighing, Uryuu closed the door behind him and began shucking his clothes. He made a point of not looking at the mirror; he hated seeing the marks of his battles, drawn on his body like a map. He had too many scars, in his mind, too many for comfort. And, to top it off, the star over his heart had started glowing an angry red every time he and his father fought. Ryuuken said it was a good sign, that his Quincy powers were merging further with his body. All Uryuu knew was that it hurt.

The hot water felt amazing, pounding as it did over aching, sore muscles. Closing his eyes, Uryuu let the water dull the constant throb of his aching mind.

\----

Yamamoto-soutaichou had, as Unohana had hoped he would, approved the ryoka coming to help. Nobody could deny that the Thirteen Divisions were stretched tighter than they had ever risked before, and with more and more people falling ill each day, and no cure in sight, that stretching would only grow thinner.

Tiredly, Unohana trod the path to Fourth Division’s hell-moth cages. There was no longer anybody on duty at the cages; Fourth Division had everyone who could working at healing. Those who could not were helping to give water and broth to the ill, to clean buildings, and to make sure quarantined areas were kept quarantined.

The dark-haired captain reached into the cage slowly, whispering soothingly to one of the dark moths. It seemed to think for a moment, and then fluttered to light on her hand. Smiling, Unohana drew it out of the cage and began whispering her message to it. That done, she threw it to the sky.

 


	3. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Return to Suffering (Chapter 3 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

“They want us to return to Soul Society?” Ichigo demanded, confused.

Urahara nodded, hiding behind his fan. The dark hell-moth, sent by Unohana, rested on his hand. “There’s quite an epidemic, it seems.”

“An epidemic?” Rukia asked, frightened. She looked to the older man. “How…how bad?”

“Unohana doesn’t know what to do,” Urahara admitted plainly, laying aside his fan and lifting a cup of tea. He took a moment to take a sip, savouring the light flavor of the green tea. “They’re—Fourth Division—quarantining entire Districts of Rukongai. Seireitei has already been quarantined, as has the Academy. _Shinigami_ are falling ill.”

When Rukia gasped in horror, a very confused Orihime looked between them. “I…I’m confused,” she admitted.

“In Soul Society…” Rukia mumbled, “there’s no illness.”

“Or, rather,” Urahara interjected smoothly, “almost no illness. And when there is, it’s very strong, and very hard to fight. If Shinigami are falling ill, however…”

“It’s not good,” Rukia finished. “They want Ichigo to return?”

“And Chad, and Orihime, and Ishida,” Urahara answered. “The problem is quite serious, I’m afraid. Kuchiki-taichou suggested it, actually, I believe.”

“Well, Ishida-teme’s not going to help,” Ichigo snorted. “He refuses to have anything to do with us, again.”

“Shinigami, you mean?” Urahara asked. When Ichigo nodded, he smiled and hid behind his fan once more. “I may be able to fix that. You three just make sure that you’re ready to leave in two days.”

“Do…do I have orders?” Rukia asked.

Urahara nodded. “Ukitake-taichou has requested you come back, as well. Also, on your information, four of the Shinigami in Tokyo are also being called back to Soul Society.”

Rukia couldn’t help the shiver that trembled down her spine. There was something seriously, seriously wrong.

\----

“You need to let Uryuu-kun help them,” Urahara whispered, stroking his lover’s silver hair as they lay together in bed. “They need the help.”

“So did my mother, and my father,” Ryuuken responded acidly, twisting away from Urahara’s touch. “I watched my mother _die_ , because no Shinigami would aid her! My _six year old son_ watched his grandfather die, because no Shinigami would help! My wife—his mother—was _slaughtered_ by Hollows, because Shinigami believed she was a Quincy! No, Kisuke, I will _not_ send my son to aid them!”

As he spoke, his voice got louder and louder, until he was yelling into the blond man’s face, his own flaming red and angry. Urahara didn’t move, though; he stayed right where he was, letting Ryuuken rain anger down upon him. When the Quincy hovered above him, wordless and helpless, his chest heaving, the blond blinked and placed a gentle hand splayed flat on his belly.

“Do not go quietly into the night,” he whispered, staring up into those pale blue eyes. “But rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

“Don’t you recite poetry at me now!” Ryuuken raged. “Not when you’re asking me to sacrifice my son!”

But Urahara shook his head. “Not asking for a sacrifice, Ryuuken, love,” he whispered, rising smoothly to sit up beside the other man. The sheet fell low around their hips, pooling in shadow. Keeping the one hand flat on Ryuuken’s belly, he placed the other high on his thigh. Leaning forward slowly, he captured the Quincy’s lips in a soft, tender kiss.

Despite himself, Ryuuken felt his eyes flutter shut, and he leant into the kiss. When Urahara broke the kiss, he opened his eyes. “Wha…?” he began, soft and confused.

“Not asking for a sacrifice,” Urahara repeated, his face so close to Ryuuken’s that each could feel the other breathing. “Asking for you to let your Kojaku fly.”

The silver-haired man winced at that, anger suddenly fleeing his body. His arms trembled for a moment before his muscles gave out, and he collapsed forward into Urahara’s warm, understanding embrace. Weakly, he began to sob against the blond’s naked shoulder, his own bared shoulders shaking violently with the force of his tears.

Urahara held him, his own eyes sad. “You knew what it meant the day he learned his bow’s name,” he whispered. “You’ve known all along.”

In response, Ryuuken just sobbed harder. “I’ve watched him die once!” he cried. “Don’t make me send him into that again!”

Closing his eyes, the blond held him tighter. “He was born for this, Ryuuken,” he whispered. “He was the olive branch your father always wanted.”

“But he’s my _son_!”

“And his time is not now,” Urahara whispered soothingly. “Benihime does not believe so. And she has never been wrong. This will not be his death, Ryuuken.” Sighing, he laid his head atop the other man’s. “And, in the end, even you cannot protect him from life.”

\----

Byakuya waited at the gate, nervously worrying Senbonzakura’s hilt with one hand, completely unconscious of his actions. He couldn’t remember being this…this… _off-kilter_ in, well…ever. He hoped with that Ishida Uryuu would step through the gate in a few moments, tall and strong and as beautiful as ever, but, at the same time, he was terrified that he was going to do just that, and that he was going to be just that.

It was an awful thought.

The gate opened with a terrible, shuddering groan, and a wall of dust burst forth before it, obscuring everyone from view. Byakuya could feel the heavy fabric of his shihakusho whipping around his body, and the ginpaku kazahana no usuginu flew up in his face.

When the wind died down and the dust cleared, Byakuya could see a huddle of people coming closer, stalking through as the gate groaned shut behind them. In the second, smaller, resulting whirl of dust, the noble could just make out the silhouette of Kurosaki Ichigo, clad in his own shihakusho, Zangetsu on his back, with Orihime Inoue, in the outfit she had been given during the Winter War, on his left, and the hulking shape of Yasutora Chad on his right. Rukia was to Orihime’s left, and Urahara Kisuke walked with Yoruichi, a distance to her side.

He did not see Ishida Uryuu anywhere.

Letting out a breath that he had not been aware he was holding, Byakuya shifted his stance a little. Though he would never admit it, not even to himself, the fact that Uryuu had _not_ come back hurt. He knew that it was his fault that the Quincy was no longer his, that he had only himself to blame, but it still hurt.

“Byakuya-kun!” Unohana hissed, clearly intending the words for him alone. “Look _up_!”

Startled, Byakuya did that. He yanked his head up—gracefully, mind—and stared directly into…

Ishida Uryuu’s dark blue eyes, staring at him as if staring directly into his soul.

Byakuya shivered. “Ishida-san,” he murmured, voice cold, words distant.

Ishida’s eyes looked hurt for a second, and then he withdrew entirely, much as Byakuya had seen him do before. “Kuchiki-taichou,” he said curtly.

“As you can see,” Urahara said, beaming stupidly, clearly aware of the tension in the air, “we have come.”

“And we are grateful,” Unohana said, smiling up at him.

\----

He should not have come. He knew that, now, standing in the middle of a swirl of dust, wincing against the wind. His father had been right. Messing about with shinigami was a bad idea.

Messing about with Kuchiki Byakuya had been a bad idea, too, a sneaking voice whispered in the back of Ishida’s mind. But that hadn’t stopped him, now, had it? Taking a deep breath—and inhaling what felt like a pound of earth—Ishida shook his head, hoping to get rid of the nasty, insidious little voice.

He wondered, briefly, how his little cat was doing. It was the first time he had left Kirai on her own for an extended period of time. Sure, the neighbor girl was coming over to make sure she had food, water, a clean litter box, and her daily dose of cuddles, but how would Kirai react to having someone else take care of her? Ishida wondered, and he worried a little.

That, too, he pushed to the back of his mind. It was a bit like wondering if he had left the coffee pot on, or the stove on, or the washer running. It was just a stupid delay tactic, and he knew it for what it was.

 _‘Suck up and deal,’_ he told himself. Taking another deep breath—and breathing in another pound of dirt—he stepped forward. His boots made no sound in the dusty earth, and the inherent power in the Quincy fabric he had designed sucked up the dust that otherwise would have clung to the fabric, converting it back into its basic form: reiatsu. Then it stored it for later.

He watched the small group they were approaching. Yamamoto-soutaichou stood, impassive, in the middle. The sickly, white-haired captain stood behind and to his left, while the man in the flowered haori stood behind and to his right. That captain’s fukutaichou stood beside him, looking vaguely disapproving. Ishida wondered if that was her default expression, or if her captain was as much a pain in the ass as Kurosaki.

Unohana-taichou stood to the white-haired captain’s left, smiling kindly, her hands folded inside her sleeves. Her fukutaichou—Kotetsu, Ishida’s mind supplied—was nowhere to be seen.

Beside her, however, stood Kuchiki Byakuya.

Just looking at him, Ishida felt his heart go crazy all over again. The captain was still as beautiful as ever, and his presence still inspired a strange tingling through all of his extremities. Hidden safely behind Chad’s bulk, Ishida allowed himself to stare.

As they came ever nearer, Ishida noticed that Unohana-taichou was smiling directly at _him_. When she noticed that he had noticed, her smile brightened, and she winked, ever-so-slightly.

Startled, Ishida nodded in her direction. Sure, he knew the woman. He got along with her quite well, for all that she was a shinigami. During his last stay in Seireitei, they had gotten to know each other passably well. But winking…?

He noticed her elbow Byakuya, and wondered how he had missed that the two were friends. It was the only way Byakuya would permit such an action upon himself. He watched as she muttered something to the elegant man, and then…

Byakuya looked up.

His eyes were dark, still, but they were ringed in great circles like bruises. His face was thin and hollowed, and his cheekbones looked so sharp that they could cut glass. His skin, normally pale, was past white and moving onto sallow and unhealthy.

And still, Ishida felt his heart catch in his throat.

Byakuya shivered. Ishida wondered if, under the heavy kimono, he had lost weight. By the looks of it, probably.

“Ishida-san,” Byakuya whispered, his voice hoarse.

Hearing the cold, far-away tone of his voice, Ishida felt a flash of brilliant, icy hurt. _He_ hadn’t been the one to ruin their relationship. _He_ hadn’t been the one to blame.

Quickly shelving those thoughts—along with all of his memories of Byakuya-his-lover—Ishida acknowledged the greeting.

“Kuchiki-taichou,” he said, voice sharp, eyes sharper, watching for some reaction on Byakuya’s part. He was not disappointed; a flicker of interest passed through those tired eyes.

But Urahara clearly felt the tension. “As you can see,” he said quickly, “we have come.”

Unohana-taichou smiled at him. She spread her arms wide in welcome. “And we are grateful.”

 

 


	4. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Redemption Denied (Chapter 4 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

As soon as he had formally greeted and welcomed the group to Seireitei, Yamamoto-soutaichou led the ragtag band through the empty streets to his formal audience hall. He said nothing to them, but he knew that they were all looking around, noting how different things were since their last visit to the Court of Pure Souls.

And what a difference there was. The streets were empty, silent. Here and there, faces peeked out from behind windows, only to disappear the instant they were seen. All of the doors were shut; gates were locked. Several had vibrantly-colored seals plastered across the gates. These, Ishida noticed as he passed, were labeled as, “QUARANTINED UNDER THE ORDERS OF THE FOURTH DIVISION.” Each seal was signed with Unohana’s flowing signature.

He cast a look across at her. “Quarantine, Taichou?”

She nodded gravely. “Entire sections of Rukongai,” she replied. “Here, at least, it’s just until we can find a better way of protecting one another.” Her eyes darkened briefly. “But, then, you will hear more about this, soon.”

Accepting her dismissal, Ishida nodded.

Chad, beside him, was silent. As a child, he had seen quarantine enacted in his hometown. It had been horrible, and he had spent nights screaming in terror that they would lock him in his house, never to release him. Even now, years later, he shivered, just seeing the signs of death and disease. Seireitei was just as silent as his home had been.

Rukia shivered, passing under a low-hanging branch. She watched Ukitake’s back as he walked in front of her. Like many in the 13th Division, she harboured great worry for her captain. She knew him to be strong, really, she did, but something about the willowy man inspired tender love and worry.

As if hearing her thoughts—a habit of his—Ukitake turned and smiled at her. “I’m fine, Kuchiki-chan,” he assured her. His eyes slanted quickly towards Byakuya, and his smile grew. “Better so than Kuchiki-san,” he added.

Only one of his adjutants would recognize the scheming in that smile, Rukia decided, but it looked like Byakuya had an inkling, if his dark look was anything to go by. “You are not well, Nii-sama?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Byakuya said shortly, his voice sour. “As Ukitake-san well knows.”

Behind the both of them, Ishida bit on his lip to stifle a laugh. The sarcastic tone of Byakuya’s voice was so subtle that, had he not been bedding him for almost a year, he would not have recognized it. It was the first time he had seen both captains interact, and it was, for lack of a better word, hysterical.

Rukia, too, seemed to see it. She, however, also seemed to be more used to it. The same could be said for Unohana, who merely rolled her eyes (discreetly, of course,) and hastened her step to catch up with the other two. She placed a gentling hand on both men’s arms. “I’m certainly glad that the pair of you are still healthy,” she said calmly. “Just think of the work I would have to do if you were not!”

At that, Ukitake laughed. Byakuya merely smiled, slightly, the expression not making it quite as far as his lips, though it lit up his eyes.

Leading the back of the procession, Shunsui watched the tension in the Ishida boy’s shoulders grow, and contemplated the meaning of that.

\----

Byakuya watched closely as Ishida settled into a comfortable seiza. Looking at him, ignoring his clothing, one could almost see him as any member of the Four Great Clans. He was graceful and elegant, and it appeared to be completely effortless.

And, it seemed, he knew the trick to sitting seiza for _hours_ without fidgeting.

 _Took us long enough,_ Senbonzakura observed, an edge of amusement in her voice.

 _Us?_ Byakuya shot back sharply. _I seem to recall you merely laughing through several meetings,_ Dearheart.

The Zanpakutou just laughed. Her tone was mocking, but not cruelly so. It was the tone of a long, intimate friendship, and Byakuya did not begrudge it in the slightest. _Soullove,_ she whispered, _it is how one grows strong. That which does not kill us—_

 _Merely makes us wish it had,_ Byakuya answered, his eyes fixed on the way Ishida’s shoulders rose and fell with his breathing. The boy had grown his hair out; it was long enough now that he had started to keep it pulled back in a tight queue. He had gotten new glasses; the frames on these were slightly darker, the lenses a little larger. They still flashed in the light, though.

The shining light attracted Byakuya’s eyes downward, and he mentally categorized the changes that had occurred over the past two years. Ishida had filled out some; his shoulders and chest were wider than the last time Byakuya had seen him. His face was thinner, and he had a new scar on his left wrist. It was thick and ropy; it looked like it had hurt.

Byakuya wondered if one of Ishida Ryuuken’s arrows had caused it. He had heard that, after their break-up, Ishida had gone back to his father and started training with him once more. It certainly helped his fighting, if the reports coming out of Tokyo were true.

Beside him, Unohana shifted slightly. Though she had her eyes fixed firmly on Yamamoto-soutaichou, she was paying more attention to the man seated next to her. She could feel the tiny eddies of reiatsu that said that Byakuya was in contact with Senbonzakura, and was glad. He had the nasty habit of retreating from everyone when he was feeling hurt, and, if her theories regarding Byakuya and Ishida Uryuu were true, he should have been feeling pretty damn hurt right about then.

Satisfied with watching Byakuya, for the moment, Unohana turned her attentions to the _other_ half of the pair. Ishida Uryuu looked as tightly-laced as ever, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the stick up his ass had grown. He had the distinct feel of someone who was hurting, but she dared not say anything to him about it. She had her theories, and, for Unohana, they were enough.

The meeting seemed to drag on forever. Yamamoto-soutaichou had to be sure to impress upon the ryoka the severity of the situation, and he also had to ensure that some plan was worked out to aid Soul Society. It was very much a political affair, and so Urahara took control of the conversation, for the most part.

Everyone seemed surprised when Ishida finally spoke up, taking advantage of a slight break in the negotiations between the two Shinigami.

“There’s a better way,” he offered quietly. Despite how gentle his voice sounded, after Yamamoto-soutaichou’s rumbling thunder and Urahara’s rapid, strident tones, there was no mistaking the power and self-assurance that lurked in his words. His back was ramrod straight, but not nervously so. He looked…controlled. Powerful.

“Another way?” Yamamoto-soutaichou grumbled, raising an eyebrow at the slender young man. “On what do you base this theory?”

Ishida refused to back down. Meeting the older man’s eyes squarely, he replied, “on the fact that you are both underestimating the abilities of this group. Kurosaki-kun is much more powerful than either of you assume.”

Yamamoto-soutaichou’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?”

“Oh,” Ishida agreed, a hint of warning in his tone. “As is Kuchiki-san. And…though I will probably regret saying this…Urahara- _taichou_. And no one can—or will—contest Yoruichi- _taichou_ ’s abilities. You will get much further by using them to the extent of their abilities.”

“How would you have us do that, Ishida-san?” Urahara asked, a curious look on his face as he watched the young man.

“You, Urahara-san, are still captain-level. Your workload should reflect this, yes, but you were also the head of Soul Society’s _research division_. This situation needs research. Divide yourself between the two. Return Yoruichi-san to her duties, albeit temporarily. Kurosaki-kun is easily captain-level as well—and, more than that, he’s reckless. Send him out to cover a captain’s patrol. He can do it.”

“Young man, how do you know about captains’ patrols?” Yamamoto-soutaichou demanded.

Ishida glared frostily at him, his glasses shining dangerously in the light. He shoved them up on his nose with one slim finger. “I am a Quincy. Since I was six, my life has depended on me knowing what you don’t want me to.”

 _Ooh,_ Senzonbakura trilled, practically glowing with a sense of wicked amusement. _The little bird is getting_ dangerous _, I see_.

 _He’s always been dangerous, love,_ Byakuya replied, swallowing the smirk that threatened. _He just let us play tough with him._

Seeing the stunned look on Yamamoto-soutaichou’s face, Urahara quickly pushed the advantage. “And yourself, Ishida-san? And Sado-san? Inoue-san?”

“Inoue-san would best be able to help by healing the injured. Her skills, while admirable, do not extend to healing illnesses. And she is not a born fighter; much like Unohana-taichou, she is much happier _helping_. Sado-san should be sent out with short-shifted divisions; his strength will more than cover for several missing men. And myself…I can help Unohana-taichou and the Fourth Division; I have training as a healer. I can also help cover short-shifted patrols.”

At that, Unohana perked up. “Training as a soul-healer, Ishida-kun?” she asked brightly.

He nodded swiftly. “As well as a more basic human healer, yes.”

“It’s settled, then!” Urahara said cheerfully, clapping his hands. “Meeting over!”

That drew him into another deep discussion with Yamamoto-soutaichou, but everyone knew that the situation was basically settled already. Byakuya kept an eye on Ishida’s thin frame, and he knew that Unohana was watching them both. Ishida was determinedly looking away, as if interested in what the older men had to say, but the glazed look in his eyes gave him away.

Seeing the hurt that flashed oh-so-briefly across Byakuya’s face, Unohana sighed to herself.

\----

“You’ve been learning soul-healing?” Unohana asked gently.

Kneeling across from her, Ishida nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It…Quincy powers are not simply limited to violence. We can…with practice, we can heal. Or so it seems.”

Unohana watched him quietly, reading between the lines to understand the things he wasn’t saying. Everything she was not hearing was leading her straight to one conclusion. “Quincy powers can be used to purify souls?”

He bit his lip, his eyes flickering down and away from her. His fingers tightened on his legs, curling into half-fists. “After…after a fashion, yes. I… While living in Tokyo, I’ve had an opportunity to observe Shinigami going about their duties…” His voice dwindled off, and he kept his eyes away from her.

Unohana’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve learned _konsou_ ,” she said. Despite her best attempts, there was a hint of accusation in her voice. _Konsou_ was a Shinigami act; Quincy were murderers who unbalanced the world. _Konsou_ was unique to Zanpakutou. That was what they had all been taught. That was the only reason that the Purges had been even slightly acceptable in the public mind, because Quincy were destroying the world and would never—could never—stop.

But Ishida Uryuu knew none of this. “You could call it that,” he agreed. “I can’t purify Hollows, mind. But the occasional wandering soul…” He shrugged. “There’s a lot of those near where I live.”

“And how are you with treating disease?” Unohana asked, shaken by his revelation, but determined to press on. She needed all the help she could, and she was not ashamed to admit it.

Noting her change in topic, Ishida easily took it. He didn’t want to discuss his forays into Shinigami-like territory any more than she did. “Disease of the reiatsu, quite talented. Disease of the flesh, even better.”

Unohana laughed. “Arrogant?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Confident. And I’ve been learning to heal since I was young. My father, Unohana-taichou, is a doctor.”

“Very well, then,” Unohana said, her smile warm. “Let’s get started.” She pushed herself to her feet, gliding upright quickly.

“Let’s,” Ishida agreed solemnly as he, too, moved to his feet. He rose in one slim, easy line; it was evident that the motion was second nature to him.

Unohana briefly imagined his mother training it into him as a child. She did not know much about the young Quincy; what she did know suggested that his father would not have been the one to teach him that kind of social grace. Ishida Naomi had come from much higher status than her husband, though, a fact Unohana had found in the (admittedly short) file Seireitei kept on the last Quincy child. It was likely that she had taught him that little art.

As she thought this, Unohana led the young man down the dark hallway. As they neared the glittering barrier, she pointed out rooms to either side of it. “Changing stations,” she explained. “You must decontaminate yourself before coming in or out of the barrier; appropriate garments are located inside.”

She was just beginning to explain the rest of decontamination procedure when the sounds of a very loud, very unpleasant confrontation became audible. Snapping her mouth shut, Unohana whirled on her heel, her hair swinging, as she stared down the hall. Seeing a nurse come racing by, Unohana yelled out, “what is going on? This is a _hospital_!”

The nurse skidded to a stop. “Unohana-taichou! One of the combined squads brought in Abarai-fukutaichou!”

Unohana immediately tore to the end of the hallway. “What condition is he in?” she demanded.

After a moment’s brief hesitation, Ishida raced down the hallway after her. While he tended to consider Abarai a little… _insane_ …he didn’t wish the man any harm, and he was fairly certain that every spare pair of hands was appreciated around the Fourth Division. He had trauma training; at the very least, he couldn’t do Abarai any harm.

The nurse led them down the hall to a trauma room, rapidly telling the dark-haired captain about the condition Abarai had been in when the combined squad had carried him in. It was not a good discussion; Ishida knew that, in the hospitals in Tokyo, Abarai would have been considered on his way out if he came in in that kind of condition. But here in Seireitei, the outlook was much more positive, as kidou and other gifts—such as Unohana’s _bankai_ —enabled the Fourth Division to heal the types of things that would have been fatal anywhere else.

Which was good, Ishida realized, his stomach twisting as he saw the redheaded man’s broken body. Otherwise, there was no hope of this man surviving. Blood, sweat, some sickly, stringy goo that might have been venom—it all puddled on the floor beneath him, oozed through his hair, clung to his body.

The worst part was that Abarai was conscious.

His eyes were wide open, glazed with agony, but still bright with consciousness. His lips were moving; he was struggling to talk. His fingers twitched, as if he was trying to grab for the trailing sleeve of one of the people working to save his life.

“Calm down, Abarai-fukutaichou,” Unohana said gently, gliding in to a gap in the press of bodies. “We’re doing everything we can for you.” She placed a glowing hand just below his throat.

The damage began to seal itself rapidly, veins closing once more before muscle and skin began to pull shut over them. Unohana pressed more power into healing the wound, gratified by the sight of the injury vanishing beneath her touch.

Abarai gasped roughly, pulling in a sharp breath before coughing roughly, sending a fine spray of blood into the air. “He-elp,” he choked. “You…ha-ave to…he-elp.”

“We’re trying to, fukutaichou,” one of the nurses said warmly, pumping reiatsu in through his wrist.

“No-ot me,” he groaned. “Ma-atsu…Matsu!”

“Calm down, Abarai!” Unohana asked kindly, holding down his thrashing limbs. “What’s this about Matsumoto-fukutaichou?”

“She…on pa-pa-trol…with…me,” he moaned, agonized. “Ho-oll-ow…got her!”

 


	5. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Entering Hell (Chapter 5 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

“Even after Abarai-fukutaichou was out of pain and lucid once more, he was insistent that he had seen the Hollow turn _away_ from him and _towards_ Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” Unohana asserted, her hands folded in her lap.

“Unfortunately,” Byakuya sighed, “there’s no sign that either one of the fukutaichou were ever there, let alone a Hollow.”

“Not even blood,” Hitsugaya agreed, pacing around the small room. “And I believe Unohana-taichou when she says there should be blood. I’ve seen Abarai-fukutaichou since the attack. There should be some sign he was there.”

“Could the Hollow itself have destroyed any evidence?” Ukitake asked quietly. “We know that these new Hollows…the ones that have started appearing since the plague started…have previously unheard of talents.”

“It is possible,” Byakuya agreed. “Nothing about these Hollows has made sense from the beginning.”

“Much like this plague,” Unohana muttered under her breath.

Yamamoto-soutaichou, watching them, shot her a look. “You have suspicions, Unohana-taichou?”

“A mountain of them, soutaichou,” she replied grimly, “and not a wick of evidence to prove any of them. But the point remains. There’s something that’s just _not right_ about this plague. _And_ these Hollows.”

“You fear an attack?”

“We all do, soutaichou,” Byakuya commented from the corner of the room. “And now it seems our fears have been realized.”

Hitsugaya nodded, paper-white. “Hollows do not kidnap, Yamamoto-soutaichou. They devour. They do not hide their trails. They leave blood and bodies. These are not normal Hollows. This is not a normal Hollow attack.”

“We must face the fact that Soul Society is under attack,” Yamamoto-soutaichou sighed heavily.

\----

“Did they find her?” Renji demanded, watching Hitsugaya stride into the hospital room. His face was still swollen and bruised, and he had one large, obvious black eye. The light yukata that Fourth Division provided all their patients with hung open, revealing a series of overlapping white bandages across his belly and chest.

Hitsugaya shook his head. “Not a sign either one of you had ever been there, either,” he said.

“We were,” Renji insisited. “I saw the Hollow. I attacked it. It was stronger than it should have been. It attacked me back. Rangiku heard us fighting and came to help. When it heard her, it…it attacked her. It _turned away from me_ , Toushirou!”

“I know, I know,” Hitsugaya soothed him, approaching the bed the redhead was lying on. Reaching up, he stroked a gentle hand down Renji’s arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Renji admitted tiredly, rolling slightly to get a better look at him. “How ‘bout you?”

“Better than you, I don’t doubt,” the short captain replied. “Unohana-taichou says that you need to sleep.” He raised one eyebrow sharply. “She also says that you’ve been refusing medication to help you sleep.”

Grimacing, Renji looked away from him. “It makes me fuzzy,” he mumbled. “I don’t like being fuzzy. Especially not when Rangiku’s missing.”

“We’ll find her, Renji,” Hitsugaya whispered, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. “We will find her. I _promise_.”

Renji bit his lip, tears gathering in his eyes. “I…I want her to be safe, Shirou,” he whispered back. “I just want her back…safe.”

Hitsugaya swallowed sharply. He squeezed Renji’s hand again, then reached up with his free hand and brushed some of the man’s long, red hair out of his face.

“I know, Renji. I know.”

\----

“Urahara-san?”

The blond man looked up from the file he was flipping through. Seeing the slender young man standing in the doorway, he smiled warmly. “Come in, Ishida-kun.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the young man stepped into the room. “I…we need to talk, Urahara-san.” As he stood there, his back and shoulders straightened, and he seemed to get more self-secure and confident.

“About what?” Urahara asked, though he was fairly certain he knew what the answer was going to be. This confrontation had been coming, he knew it; Ishida had just been putting it off.

Ishida took a deep breath. “When…when I was eight,” he began quietly, “I had leukemia. I almost died. I would have died, if it hadn’t been for Kurosaki. He donated bone marrow. But then again…you already knew that, didn’t you? Because I distinctly remember seeing your name on a donor comparison in my file one day.”

“So I’m a bone marrow donor.”

“Who only registered for my sake. You wouldn’t be in the file, otherwise. And that makes me wonder why you would do that. You were a Shinigami. Even if you didn’t agree with the politics, you never did anything to stop the Purges. You knew we were Quincy. And still you were willing to donate bone marrow.”

Ishida began to pace around the room. “More than that, though… I recognized you, the first time I met you. You’re very…distinct. My father had pictures of you. From when he was young. You, and Kurosaki-sensei. So. How do you know my father, Urahara-san?”

Urahara sighed gustily and closed the file. “I do know your father,” he admitted. “And, yes, you were the reason I ended up listed as a bone marrow donor. I wasn’t aware that your father had pictures of us, though.”

“You were the reason he told me to go,” Ishida said quietly. “He…he trusts you. You have some influence over him.” Blinking rapidly, he shook his head. “That…that fucking hypocrite! He tells me to leave the Shinigami alone if I want to be a Quincy…and then he’s got you! What, exactly, is your relationship?”

“That’s between your father and I,” Urahara said calmly. “And, at the time he was forbidding you to associate with Shinigami, he and I were not in contact.”

“But you’re in contact now. And you were in contact when I was eight. And before my parents were married.”

Urahara inclined his head in a quick nod. “Yes. Your father and I were friends before he met your mother. We didn’t talk much after he and your mother got married. After she died, I sent my sympathies. That’s how we got back in contact. We didn’t want you to find out; we thought it might upset you. After your transplant and surgeries, your father asked me not to contact him again—he was going to spend time with you.”

Ishida snorted derisively. “Oh, how that one lasted.” Reaching up, he dashed a hand across his face.

“You and your father probably need to have a talk,” Urahara said gently. “But…I will answer what questions I can. If that will help you.”

The slender young man turned to him, blinking tears back. “Did…did my mother know?” he asked quietly.

Urahara shook his head. “She had no idea, no.”

“Was any of it real? I mean…my father…did he love my mother?”

“I…I can’t say for sure,” Urahara admitted. “But I can say that your mother was the center of his world…up ‘til the day you were born. When you came into his life, you were the best thing in this existence.”

“When you knew him, was my father a Quincy?” Ishida asked, his eyes shining suspiciously as he bit his lip.

“He was, from the very first day I knew him,” Urahara confirmed. “He was questioning his role as a Quincy at the time. He was just starting the change, the day I met him.”

“He…what?” Ishida demanded, staring at him, bewildered. “Starting the change…he couldn’t have been…he would have…how long did you know him before he met my mother?”

“Six years,” Urahara admitted. “He started the change earlier than you have, but then…I suspect that you know why you haven’t started to go silver yet.”

Ishida laughed bitterly, clearly shaken. “You…you had a secret relationship with my father, longer than he even knew my mother. Oh. God.”

“Ishida-kun…”

“No, no,” he said quickly, backing away from the extended hand. “It…wow. No wonder the Quincy line is dying out. We’re all gay.”

“I never said…”

“You didn’t have to. My father only keeps photos of those he loves,” Ishida practically spat. “Thank you for your time.”

And with that, he disappeared.

\----

“You’re on patrol with us?” Hisagi asked, looking over the slender young man who stood in front of him.

Ishida nodded sharply. Summoning his bow, he let the reiatsu glimmer against his skin for a second before calling it back. “I’m patrolling with you,” he agreed, a smirk curling his lips.

Hisagi eyed him for a second, and then snorted. “Very well. I’m head of this squad. Hisagi Shuuhei, vice-captain for the Ninth Division.”

“Ishida Uryuu,” Ishida replied, nodding to him. “Nice to meet you…again.”

Hisagi grinned. “Yeah, well, same to you. We’re going to head out to where Abarai-fukutaichou reported fighting the Hollow, and try and track the Hollow the old way. These two are some of Ninth Division’s best trackers.” He pointed out two people in dark shihakushou. They both bowed quickly. “The rest of this lot are good fighters. We’ve got a good mix of _kidou_ and ranged attacks, as well as Ninth’s third through sixth seats.”

“I, obviously, am skilled with long-distance attacks,” Ishida said wryly. “And, as long as you don’t try to sell me to the Twelfth Division, I am under your command, Hisagi-fukutaichou.” He bowed to the other man.

Swallowing his smile, the dark-haired shinigami bowed back. “Join us, Quincy. You know _shunpou_?”

“Quincy have our version, yes,” he said.

“Good,” Hisagi replied. “Ninth Division! Attention!”

Instantly, the assembled mass of shinigami turned towards him, their faces calm and focused, their eyes sharp and cold. They stood upright and firm, strong in their convictions and in their belief in their own abilities.

“There is a Hollow on the loose, abducting shinigami! Matsumoto-fukutaichou, of the Tenth Division, has recently been taken while out on patrol with Abarai-fukutaichou. Even now, he waits in the Fourth Division. Muguruma-taichou asks that you all fight with valor, and the strength that we all know you possess, but be wise with your actions.” Hisagi glared at them all for a moment. “As your vice-captain, I request that you do me the courtesy of _not_ disappearing or dying. I have enough paperwork already without filling out replacement requests for an entire squad!”

The group laughed slightly. Hisagi smiled at them.

“Ninth Division! Out!”

 

 


	6. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Ninth's Struggle (Chapter 6 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

 

“Ninth Division has sent two squad’s worth of men out to hunt the Hollow, and find Matsumoto-fukutaichou,” Kensei reported, tucking his arms in the sleeves of his shihakushou. “Hisagi-fukutaichou has brought everyone down to sixth seat, and a further thirty men.”

“The Quincy, Ishida Uryuu, is also with them,” Urahara reported. “He’s got skill with Hollows, and his bow allows him to attack them from far enough away that he’s in very little danger.”

Yamamoto-soutaichou nodded his understanding. “Very well,” he rumbled. “What further progress on the nature of these Hollows?”

Mayuri laughed shrilly. “They are well-made, truly,” he said. “Their reiatsu fades within an hour, except for any remaining corruption in the shinigami’s system. The venom is a very clever little poison. Nemu!”

Quietly, not looking up at anyone, the pretty vice-captain brought forward a small vial. It was full to the top of a viciously green fluid that seemed to glow and pulse, clinging to the glass walls of the vial it was contained within. Mayuri snatched it from her hand and then casually back-handed her back to where she had first stood.

“This is the venom Unohana-taichou collected from Abarai-fukutaichou’s skin,” he said, holding up the vial so that they could see it better. “The only thing that keeps it from disappearing is this vial.” He shook the vial slightly; they could all see how the fluid didn’t move so much as it _jiggled_. “I believe it to be the infectious agent Unohana-taichou has been searching for.”

Unohana inclined her head. “Urahara-taichou brought me the results,” she said quietly, smiling quickly at the blond, who stood beside Mayuri, an unimpressed look on his face. “I do believe that Twelfth Division’s hypothesis is correct. I’ve been watching Abarai-fukutaichou’s progress, and I do believe that he’s developing something that very closely resembles the infection currently sweeping through Soul Society. If someone on the outskirts of, say, the Rukongai came in contact with the venom or saliva of one of these types of Hollows, then it would have taken maybe a day at most before they were infectious. After that…saliva, blood, body wastes—any of these things that come in contact with reiatsu, and…”

“Plague,” Urahara finished, flicking his fan up to hide the grim look on his face.

Unohana nodded. “On the positive side of the scale, I do believe that I may have found a way that will help purge the reiatsu of those infected. It’s not an instant cure, I’m afraid, but it gives them a fighting chance.”

“How easily can this be taught to your Fourth Division?” Yamamoto-soutaichou asked.

“Very easily,” Unohana said, beaming. “It’s an intensive effort, to be sure, but anyone capable of graduating from the Academy can at least do supportive purges. I plan on training my seated officers as soon as possible, so that we can treat the strongest patients first. The more reiatsu a person has, the worse the infection.”

“Very well,” Yamamoto-soutaichou said, nodding. “Any other news? Then this meeting is ended!”

\----

“Sir!” one of the shinigami in the front of the charge called. “Hisagi-fukutaichou! There’s a Hollow up ahead!”

Hisagi’s face grew grim and set. “Ninth Division!” he yelled. “Halt!”

They all came to a skidding stop, the group whirling to split their attentions between their vice-captain and the hideous monster.

He smirked at them, suddenly the tough guy who was friends with half of the Eleventh Division, the man who fought at a captain level without even releasing his _shikai_ , the man who had held the entire division together after their captain betrayed both them and Soul Society. “Alright, gentlemen, ladies,” he announced. “This is what we’ve been getting ready for. We are Ninth Division. We’re not some half-assed Division. We’re not some group of pansies. We’re not afraid to draw steel and fight. At the same time,” he left the sentence hanging.

“We’re terrified of causing extra paperwork for our esteemed vice-captain!” one of the other seated officers piped up.

The group laughed, and Hisagi’s smirk grew. “Exactly. A single one of you dies, or gets kidnapped, or gets in some way disabled, and I will kick _all_ of your asses into shape. You, ladies and gents, will be doing my paperwork until you get _reincarnated_.”

“And you lot know how much he whines about it,” the third seat added, her voice droll. “So don’t screw up.”

The group laughed again, tension tightening their shoulders. Ishida noted silently how they all shifted from foot to foot, hands worrying at the hilts of their zanpakutou. They were nervous, he could tell, but they were determined not to be. Ninth Division, it seemed, was as determined to fight and win as Eleventh, while still having some of Sixth’s decorum about things.

“Quincy,” Hisagi snapped. “I want you with me, up on this hill here. All the rest of you know whose command you’re under; find him or her _now_.”

As they watched, the entire group scurried like ants, men and women lining up with one of the four seated officers standing in a line in front of Hisagi. They formed up quickly, stepping into what were clearly familiar formations.

Hisagi nodded. “Maraki-san, take your group over to that side. Ooruma-san, over on the other side. Bara-san, right there, and Kitsu-san, over there. At my command, start attacking _to subdue_. Long range attacks and _kidou_ to begin with. We’ll close in, _slowly_ , using closer and closer attacks. Be careful not to be hit by the venom or saliva; Unohana-taichou has warned me that they believe that to be the source of this plague.” He cast a dark eye over the whole group, looking at their determined, frightened faces. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yes, sir!” the group barked as one voice.

“Very well,” Hisagi murmured. “On my word, then, Ninth Division.” He turned to Ishida. “You, my friend, are going to fire as many arrows as you can at a time right into that thing. We’re trying to subdue it, if at all possible, in the hopes that it will lead us back to Matsumoto-fukutaichou. I need you to do everything in your power to keep the Hollow from, say, stomping my subordinates flat.”

“I can do that,” Ishida agreed, nodding sharply.

“Good,” Hisagi said, nodding back. “Alright. Ninth Division… ATTACK!”

\----

“You’re in love with the Quincy,” Unohana observed quietly, walking beside Byakuya as they crossed the small bridge over the river that ran through the center of Fourth Division’s gardens.

“I…” he began, blinking at her.

She shook her head. “Don’t even think of lying to me, Kuchiki-san,” she said, putting emphasis on his title. “You couldn’t fool me if you _tried_.”

He bit his lip, pausing beside the splashing fountain that marked the very middle of the Division itself. Staring into the burbling water, he sighed. “I broke his heart,” he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over the running water.

“How?” she asked, sensing that there was pain there. “How did you break his heart, Byakuya-kun?”

He closed his eyes, his perfect posture collapsing back into the little boy she still remembered. Bowing low over his folded hands, he whispered, “I lied to him. I let him believe that I…that I had replaced him. With Abarai.”

“Why?”

“Because I had to,” he breathed. “His father…Uryuu needed…I broke his heart, Unohana-san! Why are you comforting _me_?”

“Because it’s not just _his_ heart you broke, Byakuya-kun,” she replied softly, sitting down on one of the elegant benches. “You broke your own, as well, and you’ve been blaming yourself ever since.” Patting the bench beside her, she waited patiently until he came to sit down next to her. Reaching up, she easily removed the _kenseikan_ from his hair and began to gently run her fingers through his loose hair.

Suddenly exhausted, Byakuya leant against her shoulder. “I’m just so tired,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I know,” Unohana soothed, stroking his hair. She watched the water burbling in the fountain, wondering when their lives had gotten so twisted and confused. She could still remember when Byakuya had been born; she had been good friends with Kuchiki Hitomi, and had helped to bring the clan heir into the world. She wondered if Byakuya would have been any less upright and stiff if his mother had survived just a little longer, or maybe Hisana.

Poor Byakuya, she mused, had been served a very rough hand in his afterlife. First, he had been born as the _only_ heir to one of the most highly-powered clans in Soul Society, his successful birth meaning that his mother could not provide the “spare” that would otherwise offer him an opportunity to follow his own will. Then he had lost his mother before he was three, in a terrible accident that no one could have prevented. His father had remarried before he was six, and though his stepmother brought no more possible heirs, Kuchiki Hana had been, in Unohana’s opinion, a right bitch. She had hated her stepson as much as he had hated her. After making it into the Shinigami Academy, Byakuya had lost his father in a Hollow attack and, three years later, right as he graduated the Academy, his grandfather had followed to a similar fate.

He had fought his clan tooth and nail to be permitted to marry Hisana, only to have her die slowly, painfully, disease stealing her away from him even as he watched. Unohana had been unable to help him, then, and had only watched from the sidelines as Byakuya’s face grew colder and colder, leaving only the icy man that now remained.

“He’ll forgive you,” Unohana whispered to him, knowing even as she did so that he was asleep against her shoulder. “Someday, I promise. He loves you just as much as you love him.” She pressed her cheek against the top of his head for a moment, just a second, as a mother might. “It’s the only way you could hurt him so bad.”

\----

“We’re not going to be able to last!” the fourth seat screamed back to Hisagi, calling forth his _shikai_ against the Hollow.

Hisagi, observing the battle from the hill where he was throwing _kidou_ with all his strength, bit his lip, and then barked out, “Ninth Division! Attack to kill!”

As one, the men and women leapt into the fray with a renewed strength, no longer trying to pull blows in any way, shape, or form. More and more of the fighting shinigami called out in the middle of the fray, releasing zanpakutou left, right, and center. Ishida closed his eyes, feeling the reiatsu booming and swelling all around him. The Hollow loomed, strong and massive, before him, louder than any other presence on the field.

Beside him, the vice-captain still had not called forth his _shikai_. Ishida dared shoot him a glance, staring at his strong, silent form for a moment before turning back to the battle.

“Why do you not release your zanpakutou?” he asked, yelling to be heard over the clamor.

Hisagi watched him fire a line of arrows before the Hollow, keeping it from advancing towards the group. “I don’t summon Kazeshini in front of my subordinates,” he answered. “Too dangerous.” He breathed in deeply, and then shot another _kidou_ towards the Hollow.

Ishida shot him another look, and then turned back to the fight with the Hollow.

\----

“Taichou!” one of Ninth Division’s unseated officers yelled, coming barreling down the hallway, a scrap of paper clutched tightly in one hand. “Taichou!”

“What?” Kensei demanded, looking up from his paperwork.

“A message from the investigating squads!” the man said quickly, handing the paper to him. “They’re encountering heavier resistance than expected! Hisagi-fukutaichou requests that several captain-level shinigami report to their location to assist!”

“He’s on the comm?” Kensei asked, already out of his chair and gathering up his zanpakutou. “Radio him. Tell him I’m on the way with the captains of Sixth, Eighth, Tenth, and Eleventh!”

“Yes, sir!” the man agreed. He snapped a sharp salute and then whirled back down the hallway.

“Hang on, Shuuhei-kun,” Kensei muttered, already tearing out into the training fields, headed for the gate to Ninth Division to find the other captains.

\----

“Captains’ ETA is two minutes,” the comm operator, the Ninth Division’s seventh seat officer (who had replaced the terrified unseated young man) reported. “Muguruma-taichou tore outta here with Kuchiki-taichou, Hitsugaya-taichou, Zaraki-taichou, and Kyouraku-taichou on his heels,” he added. “They’ll be there any second, Hisagi-fukutaichou.”

“They better be,” Hisagi muttered. He was now in the thick of the fighting, having dived in, deciding he could help more by summoning Kazeshini than by lobbing _kidou_ from the hilltop. “Ninth Division! Get outta my way! NOW!” he screamed out as he drew Kazeshini from their sheath.

Seeing their vice-captain’s actions, the seated officers quickly began pulling all of their subordinates towards themselves, and then behind them, backing them farther and farther away from any attack Hisagi might launch. They themselves stood at the ready, their own _shikai_ released, ready to aid the fighting in any way that they could.

“Alright, Kazeshini,” Hisagi whispered, running his hand along the length of the blade. Taking a deep breath, he released the blade.

He quickly shifted to take the weight of the double blades, the chain that joined them behind him. Kazeshini roared gleefully in his mind, their twinned personalities cheerful at having been called forth to fight.

_Let us fight, little brother,_ Kaze murmured in his ear, clawed hands clutching his shoulder tightly. _Let us destroy them._

_Destroy them all,_ Shini agreed, curling her strong arm around his other arm, her long hair tickling against his throat. _‘Til not a molecule is left._

_No!_ Hisagi hissed at them, scared to his bones but determined not to let them do as they pleased. _You will leave the shinigami_ alone _, both of you!_

_If you insist,_ Kaze pouted, releasing him roughly.

Shini agreed with a gusty sigh. They would have fought more, but for the fact that, though Hisagi was denying them the luscious flesh of all those shinigami, he was offering them the strong body of that huge Hollow, full of bright, heavy power. Her claws stung, little bright points of pain as they pulled out of the flesh of his arm. She dropped to all fours, an animalistic look creeping over her as she drew on her power. Beside her, Kaze did the same, grinning wolfishly back at Hisagi, his tongue protruding from between his fangs.

Shini barked sharply, suddenly, and they both whirled forwards, toward the bright light of reiatsu that was the Hollow.

Suddenly coming back to himself, Hisagi whirled Kaze on the chain before whipping it forward, catching the teeth of the scythe in the Hollow’s hard skin. He yanked back, _hard_ , bringing the blade racing back towards himself, the shredding winds whirling sharply around his body. Next, he threw Shini forward, to bite into the same spot on the Hollow’s trunk that her brother had. As he watched, blood blossomed, dark red, where her teeth sank deep into the monster. It was set off by the bright glow of the Quincy’s arrows, and Hisagi spared a thought to thanking whichever deity had deigned that Ishida had an attack that he could use while Hisagi himself used Kazeshini.

Kensei and the other captains arrived mere seconds later. Kenpachi made to tear forward, but was stopped by Kensei’s hand on his elbow.

“No!” the silver-haired captain said swiftly. “If Hisagi-fukutaichou has called out Kazeshini, you do _not_ want to go anywhere near him!” He nodded to the whipping dust, the rocks and pebbles lifting from the ground, and the way Hisagi’s shihakushou was being shredded in the winds. “Kazeshini will kill us all, given the chance.”

“Hisagi-fukutaichou is right to fear his zanpakutou’s power,” Kyouraku observed, watching the winds tearing through the young man’s hair. “Is…the Quincy is still fighting!”

“Long range attacks can still be effective,” Kensei muttered. “I’ve a wind-type, as well. But…” he shook his head. “If Hisagi-fukutaichou can ever gain enough control over those beasts he calls zanpakutou, I dare say he’ll replace me as captain of the Ninth in no time.”

“Twinned zanpakutou?” Kyouraku asked, looking interestedly toward the fight once more. “Oh, my…that _is_ fascinating…I don’t think I’ve ever seen him release _shikai_ before,” the casual man murmured. He edged forward, closer to where the seated officers stood, waiting for a break in the winds, keeping the others back, out of range.

“All due respect, sir,” the third seat said, squinting against the flying dust the winds were kicking up, “he does it to protect us. Sir.”

Kensei swallowed his grin; he had come to learn pretty quickly that the Ninth Division was downright belligerent in its protection of the vice-captain who had thrown so much on the line to protect them. “He never releases,” he snorted to his fellow captains. Then, straightening up, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “HISAGI-SAN!” he yelled.

Hisagi paused, gathering the winds back to his body, Kaze and Shini clasped tightly, one in either hand, their chain curling around his strong shoulders. When he turned back over his shoulder to stare at them, his eyes were a bloody red, and fangs protruded from the corners of his lips. Clawed fingers tightened on his blades. “Yes, _taichou_?” he snapped.

“Want a hand in there?” Kensei asked, smirking. “Only, we’d love a bit of that beast, ourselves.”

“Only long distance,” Hisagi snarled, whirling back around and swinging Kaze after the Hollow, wrapping the blade several times around one forelimb, chaining it in place. He then swung Shini after her brother.

“You heard the man,” Kensei snorted. “Kuchiki-taichou, I believe you can…?”

Closing his eyes, Byakuya drew Senbonzakura. “Chire, Senbonzakura,” he murmured. As he felt her reiatsu twine and mingle with his own, he opened his eyes. He drew one hand back, pulling the petal blades with it, and then let them shoot forward.

On the top of the hill, Ishida Uryuu watched silently, drawing his bow once more. Senbonzakura was as beautiful a blade as her owner was a human, and it made his heart burn to watch the effortless way Byakuya commanded her. He worked with her like a lover, Ishida knew, her reiatsu as much a part of him as his skin.

Feeling his own reiatsu pulsing against his skin, Ishida took a deep breath. If he fired this arrow, he would overdraw and collapse, that much he knew. If he didn’t, there was every chance that the Hollow would move on and kill others; even after all this time, all the high powered attacks that had been launched at it, the Hollow stood as strong as ever.

Taking one last, long look at Byakuya, Ishida fired the arrow.

[Previous Chapter](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/106353.html)   


||

  


[Next Chapter](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/109022.html)

 

(As a side note, yes, I realise that this does not line up with the recent anime/manga releases. My excuses here are that a)I am far from the first person to have an anthropomorphic representation of the zanpakutou, and b)I'd written these chapters long before the _actual_ zanpakutou personalities were revealed. Therefore, please don't comment telling me that I got it all wrong. I'm aware that it's been Jossed. But, quite frankly, I don't care. Thanks!)


	7. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Depend on You (Chapter 7 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? NC-17. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

 

  
“He’ll heal just fine, Kuchiki-taichou,” Hanatarou assured Byakuya, smiling comfortingly at him as he tucked the sheet back up under the Quincy’s chin, covering his thin, scarred chest once more. “There’s no signs of the plague, either. He just needs rest to recover his reiatsu.”

Byakuya nodded, still worried about the young man sleeping beneath his coverlet. “Thank you for your assistance, Yamada-san,” he murmured, bowing towards the man. “I am glad to see that your quarantine has been lifted.”

“And I am glad to leave it,” Hanatarou answered, smiling slightly. “Please, call me if you have any other needs.” Bowing quickly, he disappeared from the room.

\----

“Another injury!” Isane yelled, watching a stretcher come racing in, borne on the shoulders of two strong members of the Third Division.

Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, Unohana prayed briefly for strength, and then dove back into healing,

\----

“Kurosaki-kun’s injuries are not healing,” Unohana sighed, her fingers tightening briefly on the delicate teacup they cradled. “And I can’t even _begin_ to clear the infection from his body.”

“Can anyone else?” Byakuya asked, lifting the teapot to pour more into his own teacup.

The calm woman shook her head. “We are all equally worn out, stretched to the breaking point,” she explained wearily. “And of the lot of us, I have the strongest reiatsu. If I cannot summon up the strength, _no one_ can.”

Byakuya replaced the teapot with a heavy thump. “Perhaps you just need rest, Unohana-san. Like Uryuu-kun.” He smiled slightly, nodding back to the room behind him, where the young man slumbered on.

At that, Unohana smiled slightly. “I do wish that was all I needed,” she sighed. “When this is all over, Byakuya-kun, we shall take a vacation. A long, long vacation. You, me, Hisagi-fukutaichou, and a beach. In the middle of _nowhere_.”

“A beach, Unohana-san?”

“A beach, Byakuya-kun. You could use the sunlight; I can practically see through your skin.”

Byakuya bit his lip, hiding his smile behind his teacup. “How bad is it, Unohana-san?” he asked quietly.

She sighed again, her mirth evaporating. “Very,” she said bluntly. “If I cannot heal him, or find someone who can, in the next week, he will die.”

“And if he dies?”

“He’s still got a living body in the real world,” she said. “That body will die, too. He will be trapped here, as a real shinigami.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Byakuya asked quietly. “He lives a shinigami, already. Urahara-san has created gigai that are made for long-term usage. He’s _his_ son.”

“But he loves his family, Byakuya-kun,” Unohana replied softly. “He raves in his sleep, you know. Fever dreams. And he’s always asking them not to hurt his sisters, his father, his friends. The only reason Kurosaki-kun even allowed Rukia-chan to transfer her powers to him was so that he could protect his little sisters. His father may know, but his sisters don’t, and he doesn’t want them to lose both mother and brother.”

“Death is so much more unpleasant when there are _people_ involved,” Byakuya snorted.

“Indeed,” Unohana agreed, hiding behind her teacup. Then, looking up, she smiled. “Awake, Ishida-kun?”

Byakuya whirled around, undignified, to stare at the thin young man clinging to the door frame.

When he had stripped the Quincy of his sweaty, dusty clothing, Byakuya had dressed him in an old, well-worn pair of hakama and a light yukata before tucking him under the light coverlet in his rarely-used bedroom. Laying the limp, deathly-still body down, he hadn’t thought of what the young man would look like, dressed in his clothing, standing, weak and mussed, in his doorway.

“Uryuu,” he breathed, moving quickly to his feet and sliding a strong arm around that thin waist. “You shouldn’t be up!”

Ishida ignored him, except to lean heavily against him and stare at Unohana. “Kurosaki…Kurosaki is…dying?”

“He has contracted the plague,” Unohana asserted, also rising to her feet. “You, however, need rest, Ishida-kun.”

“He…he can…can’t die,” Ishida managed to work out, breathing slowly. “Karin…Yuzuu…”

“Fourth Division will do everything we can,” Unohana told him firmly, helping Byakuya to usher him back towards the bedroom. “Please, Ishida-kun, rest.” Bowing gently, she moved back into the sitting room, and then out into the hallway.

“I assure you,” Byakuya murmured, “that Fourth Division is doing everything that they can to heal Kurosaki-kun. You may not trust me, Ishida-kun, but please, trust Unohana-taichou.”

“Oh, I don’t trust you,” Ishida muttered, stabbing a bony finger into Byakuya’s chest. “You played me…”

“I know,” Byakuya murmured, closing his eyes and swallowing the lump that began to gather in his throat.

Ishida shook his head and snorted violently. “I know, you know,” he said, leaning back against the nearby wall. “You weren’t _really_ with Renji-kun. You _lied_ to me.”

Byakuya bit his lip, watching the slender young man. “I had to,” he whispered. “You needed what your father could teach you.”

“Bullshit,” Ishida shot back. “You were scared, Byakuya- _kun_. You got rid of me because you were _scared_!”

“I didn’t get rid of you!” Byakuya replied, pain in his voice. “I _love_ you, Uryuu! Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t,” Ishida answered waspishly, his eyes bright with anger. “Tell me, Byakuya. How does casting me aside mean you _love_ me?”

“Because everyone I love gets hurt,” Byakuya whispered to him. “They all die. And your father was willing to teach you. I couldn’t let you die because I had been too selfish to let you go. I love you, Uryuu, but I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me?” Ishida demanded, staring at him. “…god, you are fucked up.” Stepping forward, away from the wall, he wobbled and then fell into Byakuya’s arms. “But somehow, I still love you.”

Byakuya held him close, his eyes closed, just breathing in the smell of Uryuu. His hair was soft beneath Byakuya’s chin, and he felt thin and fragile in his arms. “You need to rest,” he murmured finally, placing a hand in the small of Ishida’s back, a silent support to help him stand upright once more. Gently, he drew the Quincy into a standing position. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Ishida mumbled, making his voice as firm as he could, trying not to lean into the warmth of Byakuya’s touch. “Kurosaki-kun’s not. I’ve got to do something.”

“You do him no good by becoming ill yourself,” Byakuya said calmly. “He has Unohana-taichou, Isane-fukutaichou, and the entire Fourth Division trying to heal him. Your friend Inoue is helping to move the load off them, so that they may focus on him. You can help him best by not making yourself collapse once more, so that the Fourth Division can focus on him.” He began to stroke Ishida’s back softly, using the soothing patterns he had learned when they had been in a relationship.

Sure enough, the Quincy began to melt beneath his fingers. Byakuya knew just where to put pressure, just where to touch and how to touch. He had learned Ishida’s body quickly, and learned it well. He used all of the knowledge as best he could, which was, in Ishida’s opinion, very, very well.

“Bed,” Byakuya breathed in his ear.

Closing his eyes, Ishida leant back into his touch. He took a deep, slow breath, inhaling the calming scent that his body recognized as belonging to the Captain. Then, turning his head to rest against Byakuya’s chest, listening to his heart, he nodded. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. “Bed.”

“Good decision,” Byakuya murmured into his hair. Bringing strong arms around the young man’s body, he led him back into the bedroom.

\----

Byakuya watched his lover sleep, silent. Ishida’s slim form lying in his bed was oddly familiar, though the Quincy had never before been in it. Regardless of where he was, it seemed, he slept in the same half-curl. His hair still tumbled over his face the same way, still covered the same, lonely expression. His feet fidgeted the same way, and his hands clutched at the bedding the same way.

“Byakuya,” Ishida whimpered.

The nightmares, however, were new. They worried Byakuya, who knew how sensitive Ishida was, how emotionally unstable he secretly was. Reaching forward, he smoothed a hand over his face, brushing his hair back from his face. As he did so, he trailed a palmful of reiatsu over his skin, a trick he had learned many years before. Sure enough, the grimace on his face smoothed out, lips parting ever-so-slightly. A small sigh escaped him, and he snuggled comfortably under the light blanket.

Byakuya’s face softened as he watched his lover sleep, though it raised a mental question. _Was_ Ishida his lover? Or had that ended with his little trick, two years ago? Ishida let him closer than he let anyone else, that was true. He still let him touch him, leant into his touch, encouraged it.

If he wasn’t still Ishida’s lover, there was a hope left that he would be again.

“Stop thinking,” Ishida murmured drowsily, cracking open a hazy eye. He stretched out one bandaged hand, the rest of him buried beneath the blanket.

Byakuya blinked at him. “Are you ordering me around?” he asked.

Ishida shook his head. “Consider it a request. Besides,” he added, shifting, “this bed is too big. How do you sleep in this?”

Smiling—not that anyone except for Ishida could tell—Byakuya watched the way the blankets fell away from Ishida’s thin body, admired the revealed skin and muscles. “I don’t, usually,” he confessed. “I fall asleep at my desk. Ask Renji.”

“Well,” Ishida said primly, “the mattress is good. Bed’s more than big enough for two…”

“You’re exhausted…” Byakuya began.

Ishida treated him to an elegant shrug. “So are you. And you haven’t slept as recently as I have.” Leaning forward, he slid a hand under the noble’s _ginpaku kazahana no usuginu_ , pressing cold fingers against the warm skin of his throat. “Please?” he whispered, leaning closer and closer.

Unconsciously, Byakuya began to lean in, too, his hand cupping the young man’s face in one smooth palm. He watched, mesmerized, as Ishida’s eyes fluttered shut, a flush rising in pale cheeks. He could feel his breath racing over his lips. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled.

“Probably,” Ishida agreed breathlessly.

Nevertheless, they kept leaning forward until their lips met.

Ishida had thought that he remembered what it felt like to kiss Byakuya. Now, however, he realized just how wrong he had been. He had forgotten what it felt like to kiss him, like directly absorbing spirit particles from his body, like a live current. It felt _amazing_ , a rush as powerful as the first time he’d released an arrow. Moaning slightly, Ishida parted his lips beneath Byakuya’s pressing tongue.

Cradling Ishida’s face in his broad hands, Byakuya deepened the kiss. It had been too long, entirely too long, since he had last kissed the Quincy. He felt Ishida’s slim hands fisting in the soft fabric of his yukata. He pressed himself closer to the younger man, wanting to feel those hands on his skin. When Ishida moaned ever-so-slightly, Byakuya ran a hand along his face and wove his fingers through his hair.

“This is a terrible idea,” Byakuya mumbled, breaking the kiss to push Ishida back on the bed.

“Horrible. But it feels so good,” Ishida replied in a whimper, falling back willingly, his hands already working to remove Byakuya’s informal yukata. When the elegant silk fell open, Ishida slid his hands in, feathering his hands down the shinigami’s smooth skin. Shinigami didn’t scar easily, and captains rarely had signs of their battles. Still, Ishida knew of two permanent marks on Byakuya’s body.

The first was a scar as long as his palm, smack in the center of his chest. Carefully, Ishida stroked the rough skin of the scar. It still tingled with the remnants of the angry reiatsu that had carved into the nobleman’s skin. Occasionally, the reiatsu would sting and burn, which was how Ishida had learnt how sensitive it was. He spent a few moments feeling the scar, stroking it with his fingers.

Byakuya kissed Ishida warmly, splaying his hand against the five-pointed scar and feeling the steady throb of reiatsu and Ishida’s heart. He loved the way raw power prickled against his fingertips, shivering beneath Ishida’s skin. Hungry for more, he began to trail kisses down his throat, nibbling and biting at the pale, warm skin.

Ishida groaned, eyes falling closed and tilting his head back to expose more of his throat to Byakuya. “That’s nice,” he whispered, arching into his caresses. “Don’t stop.”

Chuckling, Byakuya sat back, working at stripping his yukata. “Ordering me around, little Quincy,” he asked. “My, my, how you’ve grown.”

Ishida just grinned dangerously, sliding an arm around the other man’s strong, muscular back. He reached up with the other hand and removed his lover’s _kenseikan_ , having learnt that little trick early on. When Byakuya’s hair was hanging long and loose about both their faces, Ishida curled his arm up and over his shoulder, around his neck.

“I missed this,” he whispered, staring straight up into Byakuya’s smoky eyes.

“I missed you,” Byakuyaa returned softly. His weight was all supported on one arm, and the other curled under the young man, his hand cradling his skull, thumb sweeping over one cheekbone.

The flush on Ishida’s cheeks darkened for a moment, and then his reiatsu reared up, even beneath the tight rein he held it under. He could _feel_ Byakuya’s reiatsu, could _feel_ his lover’s arousal, could _feel_ it responding to his own. It was a powerful feeling, knowing he could make someone like Kuchiki Byakuya lose control entirely.

Desperate hunger flickering in his eyes, Byakuya closed the distance between them, small though it was. He kissed Ishida once more, hungry for another taste of the younger man. Feeling desire rippling through where their reiatsu were meshing, Byakuya tangled his fingers in Ishida’s soft hair and deepened the kiss.

Groaning, Ishiad pressed himself closer to Byakuya. He tightened his arms around the captain, drawing their bodies as close as he could. His fingers explored Byakuya’s strong back, tracing the long lines of bone and muscle. When his fingertips found Byakuya’s tattoo, he smiled into the kiss, stroking it with one long finger.

All captains had tattoos. Whenever one achieved _bankai_ , soul merging completely, it would leave a mark—made entirely of reiatsu—on the body. Many captains—and often their vice-captains, when they achieved _bankai_ —went to a tattoo artist in Rukongai. Then, the shinigami would hold _bankai_ as long as it took the man to make the mark permanent.

A side-effect of this tattooing process was that the tattoo was forever sensitive to reiatsu. Ishida had stumbled across _that_ fact two years earlier. He had gladly memorized it, and loved to tease Byakuya with the sensitive tattoo. He traced the outline of the cherry blossom tattoo with one finger, letting his reiatsu tingle along the sensitive skin.

“Uryuu!” Byakuya moaned, breaking the kiss and dropping his head down to the slender young man’s shoulder. “Ohh…Uryuu…”

Ishida laughed breathlessly as Byakuya pushed him back into the pillows, his reiatsu going wild. He loosened his own tight control, letting the storm of emotion carry him away on a roiling wave.

“Byakuya,” he whimpered, desperate to feel him once again. It had been a long time since he had felt Byakuya’s strong, smooth hands—too long.

“Shh, shh,” Byakuya breathed in his ear. “Relax, Uryuu.” Softly, he kissed his forehead. “Trust me.”

“I shouldn’t, but I do,” Ishida sighed, smiling up at him. He relaxed back into the pillows, arching his hips slightly.

Byakuya smiled back, feeling the Quincy’s hardness against his thigh. He had missed this, feeling Ishida aroused and wanting against him. He, too, wanted this—he had dreamt of this for two long years. Lowering his head, he leant down and kissed Ishida’s collarbone…and then bit down sharply.

Ishida hissed, his entire spine arching as his eyes fell shut. His fingers tightened on Byakuuya’s shoulders, fingertips going white as his fingernails dug into soft flesh. As the older man grinned smugly and did it again, Ishida cried out sharply and dragged his fingernails down his pale back.

That was how Byakuya remembered it, with Ishida marking him up, violent in his passions. Over the years, it seemed that Ishida had calmed down some—he no longer had to be fought into giving himself over to his desire. But Byakuya was glad that the fight remained in some form; it was one of the things that had drawn him to the younger man in the first place.

Ishida wantonly parted his legs, urging Byakuya between them, hungry for the feel of his lover’s touch. Two years had been much too long.

As Byakuya reached away for the oil he used to oil Senbonzakura, Ishida closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself be lost to the wild storm of energy, anchored only by Byakuya’s touch.

\----

“Senbonzakura likes you,” Byakuya said without preamble. He lay curled around the younger man, so close that their dark, sweaty hair seemed to flow together into one inky stream. He had one arm draped over Ishida’s body, holding him close, as he supported himself on the other elbow, leaning over the other man’s form. Absentmindedly, he stroked the soft skin of Ishida’s hip.

“Hmmm?” Ishida murmured, half-asleep between the soft touches and the afterglow.

“She does,” Byakuya continued, still stroking his hip. “I can tell.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Ishida’s neck. “I’m glad.”

“Good,” Ishida breathed, his eyes fluttering.

Byakuya watched his lover for a moment, relaxed and calm. After a moment, he too, let himself drift into sleep. At the last second, he released Senbonzakura from his tight control, sliding under the soft coverlet beside his lover.

Ishida stirred slightly, even in his sleep, feeling warm, protective reiatsu settle around their bodies like a blanket.

 

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	8. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Easier to Breathe (Chapter 8 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Unohana murmured, turning her head slightly to smile at Ishida. “We do need someone strong enough to help with Kurosaki-kun.”

Ishida laughed quietly, placing his hands on either side of the redheaded young man’s bare chest. He could feel the heat of his fever radiating above his skin, Ichigo’s body fighting the infection of its reiatsu as best it could. Steeling himself, Ishida placed his hands on the bare skin and began to gather his own reiatsu to his palms.

“I’m also glad that you have repaired your relationship with Byakuya-kun,” the calm, motherly woman added, ducking her head to hide her silly grin behind her hair. It would not do for the serious young man to know about her well-hidden sense of rather vicious humor. “He needs someone to make him sleep.”

Ishida’s eyes went wide, and his head whipped around as he stared at the head of the Fourth Division. “M-my…my…” he stuttered.

Unohana’s grin grew wider. “He was lonely after that whole affair, two years ago,” she said, sighing gustily. “I was quite worried for him.” Nevermind that she had only just managed to coax all the details out of the reticent man only recently; what Ishida didn’t know would only serve to amuse her.

“I—” Ishida began, weak and surprised.

“Never mind,” Unohana urged, shaking her head. “Go on; heal Kurosaki-kun.” Beneath her hair, she bit her lip. The Quincy really was much too easy a mark.

Ishida eyed her suspiciously, but turned his head back to Ichigo’s body. He renewed the push of his reiatsu, sinking into the power that ran through the other young man’s body. His goal was to forcibly clean as much of Ichigo’s reiatsu as best as he could, purging the poisoned, infected spirit particles from his body in a bid to cleanse enough of his body that his own immune system could take over the work.

The Hollows, it seemed, produced a strange toxin in their bodily fluids that directly attacked the reiatsu of any souls it came in contact with. They had determined that a Hollow on the outskirts of Rukongai had probably come in contact with someone with enough reiatsu to probably make it into the Shinigami Academy. That person had then brought the infection into Rukongai. It had climbed through the different levels of Rukongai as helpful people came down from one to help those ill in another and then returned to their homes. Students from the Academy heading to visit their families had picked it up and brought it back into Seireitei, along with the various shinigami running patrols in Rukongai. When Fourth Division had started quarantining districts, they had brought in more shinigami to enforce the quarantine, and the disease had gotten its foothold in the Thirteen Divisions.

The only reason the Fourth Division hadn’t gotten infected while healing was because of the way they were trained to use reiatsu; anyone considered talented enough to be helping heal in a quarantined area instinctively ran their reiatsu in a different pattern than most shinigami, helping with healing. It was a known technique for infection control, but no one had thought that it would be the only thing keeping them from being vectors of infection themselves.

Ishida focused on his healing for a while, pressing as much of himself into it as he dared. He still had not completely recovered from overdrawing while out fighting the Hollow with Hisagi, but he had more available for healing the hyper-powered Ichigo than most of the Fourth Division.

A cool hand upon his shoulder made him jump; he was starting to reflect Ichigo’s fever with the fervor of his healing.

“That’s enough, Ishida-kun,” Unohana said gently. “Don’t hurt yourself. Take a break.”

Obediently, Ishida rose up from the healing, pulling his own reiatsu back into his body and then removing his hands. Reaching out, he washed his hands in the antibacterial solution that the Fourth Division was using to stop the spread of infection. Then and only then did he reach up and brush his sweaty hair out of his face.

Unohana smiled at him. “You have done a lot already,” she said cheerfully. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but you’re certainly taking care of a lot of that!”

Ishida smiled wanly back. “Lots of practice,” he said tiredly. “I’ve been using this technique on patients back in the real world.”

“Does it work?” Unohana asked, curious.

He nodded. “On disease, yes. And it also gives me an idea of certain people to keep an eye on; more than one of those I have treated is strong enough to attract the attention of several Hollows when they die.” Stretching up, he interlaced his fingers above his head and stretched out, feeling the small muscles in the small of his back spasm violently. Between the previous couple of days with Byakuya and sitting, hunched over his patient, on a stool as he healed, he could tell that the muscles were going to cramp.

Noticing the look on his face, Unohana placed her hands on his lower back and began massaging, fingers seeking out the cramping, tense muscles and loosening them. She warmed her fingers slightly with curls of reiatsu, gratified to see the tight expression on the younger man’s face ease as she worked. “No sense in hurting yourself,” she teased gently. “Reiatsu massage—generally, one of the first things Fourth Division teaches to new vice-captains. Great for soothing tired muscles and renewing energy.”

“It certainly is,” Ishida agreed, shaking out his shoulders as she stepped back. “Thank you very much, Unohana-taichou.” Stretching again, he turned to look at her. “Have they found Matsumoto-fukutaichou yet?”

She nodded, lifting the bowl of antibacterial agent he had washed his hands in and carrying it over to a nearby sink. “The message came through while you were healing Kurosaki-kun. They found her, injured but alive, right outside the 86th District. A group of young women were caring for her, thankfully.”

“She’s being brought back here to the Fourth Division, correct?” Ishida asked, concerned. “Because Inoue-chan can undoubtedly help her.”

Unohana nodded serenely. “They are bringing her back into our care, even as we speak,” she promised. “The members of Tenth Division that found her radioed back to request some members of Fourth Division, in hopes of treating her. She seems to have contracted the plague, but not a bad case of it. Her outlook is quite good.”

“That’s good,” Ishida murmured. He helped Unohana to refill several of the bowls with the antibacterial agent, and then began to place them around the room, at the various stations where healers were hard at work cleaning reiatsu. Some, those who were not in so deep as to be oblivious to the world, bobbed their heads in thanks as they worked. Unohana followed him around, keeping an eye on her subordinates. Here and there, she tapped shinigami on the shoulder, politely requesting that they trade places with another, waiting healer.

Fourth Division moved easily, despite their frantic, desperate work. Each member knew what was expected of him or her, and knew how to achieve their goals. They were prepared to allow others to take over their workload, or to take up the workload of another, in working for the greater good. Pride had very little place in the Fourth Division; much more important was the focus on the team’s successes.

Ishida walked slowly around the room, letting his muscles relax and loosen. He was not the only one pacing the room; Fourth Division had a strict policy of working hours, especially where the plague was concerned. No one was permitted to get stupid with exhaustion, as that would raise the risk of spreading the infection too much. Those who weren’t actively healing were still helping out, however; some were changing out the bowls of antibacterial agent, while others were mopping floors. Some were going around and laying cool, damp clothes on the fevered brows of the sick, and some were dabbing cool water on the foreheads of sweating healers.

“If you need a break,” one of the shinigami carrying cloths said, twisting slightly to talk to Ishida, “I can trade off with you…oh. My apologies, Quincy-san.” He bowed quickly.

Ishida shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay.” He smiled slightly. “According to your captain, I look tired enough for a break. She’s probably more than right.”

“Unohana-taichou usually is,” the shinigami agreed, turning back toward one of the sinks, cradling the great steel bowl in his arms. “If you would like a break, however, we do have some cots available just off this room.”

“That’s okay,” Ishida demurred, opening the hamper so that the man could dump the cloths he had retrieved from the ill in to be washed. “I’m only taking a short break.”

“Don’t be afraid to take a break if you need one,” the man advised. “Thank you,” he added, nodding to where Ishida was helping him. “We’re not out in the field like the Relief Squads. We should take advantage of that.” He smiled quickly at Ishida, and then returned to his rounds of the room.

“He’s got a point,” Unohana said, suddenly appearing at Ishida’s shoulder. “There was some discussion of sending you out with the Relief Squads, to heal those fighting the Hollow as they get hit, but I decided I wanted you here more.” She smiled. “We need Kurosaki-kun healed as quickly as possible, and you’re our best hope of that.”

Ishida snorted. “Are you going to avoid the chance to tease me about Byakuya?” he asked in a whisper, out of the corner of his mouth.

Unohana smirked, the expression oddly out of place on her sweet, round face. “Ah, caught me out, have you?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re too good a friend to Urahara-san to be anything _but_ secretly wicked,” he informed her archly. “You just cemented that this morning.”

“That makes five people on to me,” she said, serene. “You, Byakuya-kun, Kisuke-kun, and Ukitake-kun and Kyouraku-kun. Soon, I fear, my reputation shall be ruined.”

“Never,” he returned drolly. He yawned quickly, and then looked to her. “How’s my reiatsu doing?”

Closing her eyes, she checked him. “Very…very well. You recover quickly.” She was surprised; it was astonishing how quickly he had recouped his spiritual strength after the healing he had done.

Arching his back, Ishida grinned at her. “Quincy,” he said by way of explanation. “I absorb spirit particles straight out of the air, here.”

She shook her head, still smiling softly. “Return to your healing, then, _Quincy_ ,” she sighed. “But don’t forget to take a break, occasionally!” she added, admonishing him as he quickly walked back to Ichigo’s bedside.

\----

_I am glad that you and the Little One are back together,_ Senbonzakura announced, apropos nothing.

Moving quickly with _shunpou_ , Byakuya quirked his lips. _Oh?_ he inquired archly.

_Indeed,_ she responded, just as archly, though amusement ran deep in her mellow voice. _You are much happier when you are with him. And much less…_ frustrated _, too,_ she added wickedly.

_Keep a watch out,_ Byakuya shot back, doing his best to ignore the slightly disturbing fact that his zanpakutou had just basically admitted that she preferred he get laid on a regular basis. _These Hollows are dangerous._

_Aren’t they all?_ she inquired, and then quickly changed the topic. _Zabimaru has been indiscreet,_ she said cheerfully.

Byakuya rolled his eyes. He had never quite understood how his zanpakutou, the expression of his _soul_ , had ended up a gossipy noblewoman, but he accepted that the mysteries of afterlife were meant to be mysterious. That didn’t mean he had to encourage her.

Senbonzakura, sensing his reluctance, pouted. _Aren’t you going to ask me about what?_

_If Abarai wants me to know, he’ll tell me._

_Oh, he’s going to have to tell you soon,_ she said wickedly. _Or Haineko’s lady may_ kill _him._

_What’s he done this time?_ Byakuya sighed. He really hoped that his vice-captain hadn’t pissed off Matsumoto-fukutaichou too badly; Hitsugaya-taichou, despite his displays of frustration with her, was very likely to come hunting down the idiot who pissed her off. That was, provided the redheaded woman didn’t come first. She had a nasty temper and no mistake.

_According to Zabimaru?_ Senbonzakura asked wickedly. _Let’s just say, Haineko’s lady won’t be running patrols much longer. I expect that your healing friend may have a word for her, if she doesn’t take leave soon._

Byakuya froze. _Please tell me he didn’t…_

Senbonzakura, proud to have captured his attention, was smug. _Oh, Zabimaru’s not sure if he’s the one to blame, or if it’s Hyourinmaru’s master’s child. But it definitely is one of them._

_And I thought_ my _relationships were complicated,_ Byakuya remarked, smirking slightly. _Thank you for that bit of information, soullove. I do believe it will be_ quite _amusing to spring this knowledge on my vice-captain._

Senbonzakura laughed, the sound soft and gentle despite the wickedness that ran through it. She enjoyed helping Byakuya seem omnipotent; most shinigami never learned that their zanpakutou could and would gossip like old ladies at market, given half the opportunity. When running a division, it was a useful thing to know. Byakuya had been aware of Senbonzakura’s conversations with other zanpakutou since after his father had died. He had been a very lonely child, and she had comforted him by telling him what all the other zanpakutou had been talking about all day while he had been in class.

_I’ll never leave you lonely,_ Senbonzakura soothed him, noticing the dark path down which Byakuya’s mind had trod. _You are mine, dearheart. Ever, always mine._

\----

Unohana looked over to where the Quincy was still working. The quiet young man had been hard at work all day, taking short breaks in between sessions of pumping pure, clean reiatsu through the substitute shinigami’s system, purging it of disease. It was grueling work, and he held up incredibly well under the strain, especially considering that just a few days before, he had collapsed of reiatsu overdraw.

Which, come to think of it, he was looking dangerously close to again, Unohana noted. She rose from her stool, handing the healing over to another, more awake member of her division. Washing her hands in the antibacterial bowl, she kept an eye on the young man. He certainly looked exhausted, even his hair. It was probably nigh time that he took a break for the night; it was probably past that time for herself, she silently admitted.

“Ishida-kun?” she murmured, placing a cool, clean hand on the back of his neck to draw him back to himself.

“Hmm?” he murmured, not even looking up, rising just far enough to carry on a semi-coherent conversation.

“It’s time we take a break for the night,” she said quietly. “The night shift has already begun. You need to sleep.” She smiled cheerfully at him, despite the weariness that was now making itself known, an aching in her bones. “I promised Byakuya-kun that I would take care of you while he ran patrols.”

Ishida smiled at her, slowly pulling himself out of the healing. “Well, then. We’d best not upset him. Captains can be scary when they’re mad.”

“So I hear,” she agreed. “So I hear.”

 

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	9. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Regret (Chapter 9 of 9, plus an Epilogue)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

“Why did no one wake me?” Unohana demanded, frantically laying out bowls of antibacterial agent and cold water filled with rags. In front of her, a crew of lower-level Fourth Division shinigami were rapidly stripping Byakuya of his sweat-soaked shihakushou, throwing it into a hamper used for infectious materials.

There was no response forthcoming from the scurrying shinigami, and Unohana’s face tightened. As a healer, she had rarely treated Byakuya, instead turning his care over to one of her trusted lieutenants. She was too close to him, emotionally, in her own belief. Unfortunately, some times, she had no option but to take over his treatment. Clearly, this was one such time.

She wondered how long Byakuya had known he was ill, to be so sick at this moment. He had not been infected on patrol; of that much, she was positive. He was much too sick to have only just have caught the plague, even as tired as he had been. Had he been contagious when he was with Ishida? She hoped not; the last thing she needed was the Quincy coming down with this damn plague.

_He looks so much like his mother,_ Minazuki commented quietly.

_He does look like Hitomi-chan,_ Unohana agreed, washing her hands carefully. Her eyes softened; she had loved Hitomi like no other, and treasured her best friend’s son as a good friend, too. From time to time, she had even wondered if, maybe, Byakuya was not actually Kuchiki Daisuke’s son; he looked too much like his mother and too little like his father. Still, Hitomi had loved the man, cold as he was, and had never mentioned another relationship to Unohana.

_Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one,_ Minazuki pointed out swiftly.

_Doesn’t mean we’ll rock the boat by asking,_ Unohana replied. She neared Byakuya’s still body, and a ripple of amusement echoed through her at the sight of the small passionmark on his hip. _Mina-my-love,_ she asked gently, _please wake Senbonzakura, if you can._

Minazuki obediently searched for the unconscious man’s zanpakutou. Finding her, she settled against the elegant blade’s reiatsu, to facilitate communication between her and the healer. _She’s awake, barely,_ she told Unohana.

_Thank you, love. Ask her how long Byakuya’s been ill,_ Unohana requested.

_A little under a week,_ Minazuki relayed. _But spending time with the Quincy healed him, she thinks._

“That makes sense,” Unohana muttered to herself, gathering reiatsu in her hands and placing them on Byakuya’s firm chest.

“Unohana-taichou?” Isane asked, confused.

Unohana shook her head. “Talking with Minazuki, Isane-chan,” she assured the young woman. “If you could place your hands on his temples, thank you. Two of us should be able to heal more than one…”

\----

Ishida awoke suddenly as one of the other healer-shinigami in the small room snuffled in her sleep and rolled over. He noticed the light streaming in from under the door, and the empty bed where Unohana had been sleeping. Sitting up, he could hear the sounds of a frantic healing session in the other room.

Judging himself well-rested enough to help, Ishida shot out of the small cot. He quickly made his way to the changing room, where he showered and re-dressed himself in a clean, white variation on the basic shihakushou, the sterile garments utilized by Fourth Division. He washed his hands and raced through the barrier.

And found Byakuya on the other side.

“You didn’t wake me?” he demanded of Unohana, quickly making his way to her side. “I could help!”

“You needed the sleep,” she grunted. “Besides, they didn’t wake me, either.”

“How ill?” Ishida demanded, nudging a shinigami out of the way and clamping his hands down on Byakuya’s sweaty hips. He had reiatsu surging through mere seconds later, struggling to save his lover’s life.

“Fairly,” Isane panted out, ducking her head for another shinigami to whip a damp cloth over her forehead to cool her down.

“You’ve been healing him for the past week,” Unohana explained out of the corner of her mouth, expression tightening as she fought for control of the man’s reiatsu system. “I suspect you know how, if you think about it.”

Ishida opened his mouth, and then closed it again, blushing violently. “And he’s still ill?”

Unohana nodded. “This thing’s strong,” she told him. “As I suspect you’ve noticed.” She looked up, taking a moment to cast a sharp eye over him. “You really should still be resting.”

“I can’t let him suffer,” Ishida answered sharply. “If I overdraw again, so be it.” He looked to one of the scurrying shinigami. “You!”

“Sir?” the woman asked, confused.

“If I pass out—if I overdraw my reiatsu during this healing session—do not attempt to heal me. Do not let anyone else attempt to heal me,” he ordered her. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” she squeaked.

“What, just have them pick you up and move you out of the way?” Unohana demanded.

“Pretty much,” Ishida returned, grimacing as he worked to purge Byakuya’s reiatsu of the infection. “I’ll heal with sleep. He won’t.”

Isane shook her head, muttering something about “crazy” and “suicidal,” but said nothing to either of them.

Unohana eyed him for a long, long moment, and then shook her head as well. “Very well. Healers, do as he asks.”

\----

Ishida collapsed an hour into the healing, having already poured more of his own reiatsu into Byakuya than any other healer. He folded down swiftly, his knees buckling even as his eyes rolled back in his head. He dropped down in an almost straight line, his head falling back at the last second and tipping him backwards. One of the waiting shinigami caught him and, on Unohana’s direction, carried him over to an empty cot.

Unohana surrendered her position seconds later, directing the healing from an empty stool at Byakuya’s feet. She had only been doing so for ten minutes when another healer came rushing up, stuttering that Kurosaki-san was dying.

\----

Kuchiki Byakuya woke from his fever-sleep at 10:00 o’clock in the morning.

Kurosaki Ichigo died from the Spirit Plague at 10:05 o’clock in the morning.

\----

Ishida woke suddenly, the sun bright in his eyes, and immediately knew that something was wrong. The bed beneath him was soft and warm, nothing like the cot he had been on in the room off the quarantined ward. A quick glance around the room told him the truth; he was no longer in the Fourth Division, but in the Kuchiki clanhouse. He recognized the designs on the walls.

He also recognized something else: the emptiness in the center of his body that said he no longer had any Quincy powers.

Hoping against hope that it was merely from exhaustion, Ishida closed his eyes and tried to pull enough reiatsu against his skin to form Kujaku. But he could not even feel the energy in the world around him, let alone manipulate it so finely.

Ishida closed his eyes, and collapsed back, sobbing silently.

Kujaku was gone.

\----

Unohana watched silently from the doorway, her heart in her throat, as the young Quincy stood beside his sleeping lover.

Ishida gently stroked a hand across the other man’s pale forehead, glad that the healing he had undergone earlier to wipe out the last of the infection in his body would keep him asleep.

“I love you,” he whispered to the sleeping man, leaning down to coo in his ear. “I love you so much…but you must forget the present. Keep me a memory…but forget the present!”

Swallowing back tears, he stood up, turned, and left the room.

He never saw Byakuya twist, fidget, and wake.

\----

“Are you sure you have no one to whom you should say your goodbyes?” Urahara asked, eyeing the dark-haired young man who stood, huddled beneath his borrowed cloak, beside him.

“I’m certain, Urahara-san,” Ishida said dully, staring down at the ground. He was dressed in a borrowed shihakushou, the Quincy fabric having self-destructed when he lost his powers.

Around them, the other members of the group that had come to save Seireitei stood in a quiet, subdued huddle. Ichigo’s death had affected them all; the sudden realization that they could, potentially, die was a stunning thought. Even more terrifying was the thought that they had to go to Ichigo’s family and inform them that the redhead been killed.

Privately, Urahara thought that Ishida had been given the worst part of the deal; Ichigo had personally requested that the young man tell his father what had happened. The blond man knew that Ichigo had intended it to help Ishida to stop blaming himself—Isshin would not allow the young Quincy to keep self-castigating—but he also knew that Ishida would not see it that way.

He, too, did not look forward to confessing the truth to his own lover. He had promised Ryuuken that he would look after his son, because, after Uryuu’s brush with death as a child, the man had always been over-protective and distant. But Urahara had failed in that task, had let Ryuuken’s son fall in love, lose all his Quincy abilities, and break his own heart by leaving the one he loved in secret.

He placed a strong hand on the boy’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Let’s go home, then.”

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	10. Surrender the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

**Series Title:** Surrender the Mind  
 **Chapter Title:** Epilogue (Epilogue, plus 9 Chapters)  
 **Author:** [](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/profile)[**creepy_crawly**](http://creepy-crawly.livejournal.com/)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** ByakuyaxUryuu, UraharaxRyuuken.  
 **Rating:** For this chapter? R. For entire series? NC-17  
 **Warnings:** Yaoi  
 **Disclaimer:** No own. No money. No shame.  
 **Summary:** Two years after  Surrender the Body, Ishida Uryuu is forced to go back on his vow once more, and face Byakuya once again.

_Three Days After The Return_

“Thank you for bringing us this news,” Isshin said, biting his lip as he blinked back tears. He could barely believe that his son, his beloved Ichigo, was dead. “He…he’s a shinigami, now?”

“He has plans to attend the Academy, yes,” Ishida whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat as he did his best not to look at Ichigo’s wailing little sister, who was currently being held by her twin. “He promises to…to return, as soon as he is allowed.”

“It won’t be for a while,” Isshin sighed. “Come here, Karin, Yuzu.” He gathered his daughters in his arms and held them, tight and safe.

\----

_Two Weeks After The Return_

“Uryuu’s going to America,” Ryuuken announced, striding into his office and locking the door behind him. He didn’t even look at the blond seated on his desk, instead shrugging out of his long white coat. “He finally accepted their offers.”

“For how long?” Urahara asked, holding his arms open for the tall, strong man.

“Three more years,” Ryuuken sighed, leaning into his embrace. “I thought you said I wouldn’t lose him.”

Urahara closed his eyes, his heart aching. “I never said you wouldn’t lose him,” he whispered into his lover’s soft, silver hair, “only that he wouldn’t die.”

\----

_Two Years After The Return_

“Are you sure about this, Uryuu?” the blonde woman asked, swinging her legs as she sat on the edge of the air-conditioner. The sun sparkled off the diamonds in her ears, and glowed painfully off the white of her coat.

“I’m sure,” Ishida said, half-smiling at her as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s my sperm, Anna. I can do with it what I want.”

“Mmm, but to waste it on me?” she asked shrewdly.

“You want a child,” he said, shrugging. “I like kids. Not enough to have one of my own, but enough to help you and Maria out. Also, hopefully, it will get my father off my back about reproducing.”

“Who could blame him for wanting another one of you in this world?” she asked, teasing him. “You’re a wonderful man, Uryuu. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” She paused for a half-second. “Especially lucky, considering how you are, you know, gay.”

Ishida snorted. “Indeed,” he said dryly. “Are you ready to return? I still have one patient left to visit.”

“Let’s go, then,” she sighed, leaping off the air-conditioner. Her comfortable tennis shoes crunched in the gravel atop the roof as she followed him back to the door into the hospital.

\----

_Six Years After The Return_

“You still love him,” Unohana murmured, looking over at her companion.

“And he still loves me,” Byakuya returned, not looking at her. “I can tell.”

“How?” she asked quietly.

He turned swiftly, and the smile on his face was so bittersweet she thought that she could feel her heart breaking under its weight.

“Because,” he said softly, “if he didn’t, he wouldn’t hurt nearly so much.”

 

 

 

 

THE END

 

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To be continued in _Surrender the Soul_


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